On Tuesday I had my root canal, or one half of it since I still have to schedule the crown fitting. The exact root canal the last dentist (yup, this is a new one - I could part-time as a human Yellow Book on Milwaukee dentistry at this point) said was a low priority, and that instead another tooth would likely up and die before this one needed help (along with the information that my left front tooth would eventually go silver, courtesy of the ancient filling behind it).
Well, that other tooth is clinging on admirably, and since the front tooth has yet to go pirate on me, I focused on the fact that I had serious pain shooting into my left eyeball. Did that stop me from eating? Of course not. Did that require medicinal help? Oh yes. Wink.
Now that the pain has finally stopped and my credit card is maxed to the brim with the root canal (no dental insurance for us, which would probably be fine for those normal people who require one trip to the dentist a year - overachievers!), I am temporarily swanning around with 1/3 of an upper molar.
My "halfling" tooth, if you will. Jon, obviously, thinks this is terrific news and has taken to interrupting our conversations with requests to see if Frodo is all right.