Time to get my Crown

No, sorry, not a real crown, though I'd enjoy one of those far more than what I'm about to get today.

I hate going to the dentist.

It probably has to do with the fact that my father was a dentist, and he took care of all our dentistry needs from home, in the dining room, with outdated equipment.

Scarred me for life it did.

The stories I could tell of foot pumped drills, teeth flying across the room, and hypodermic needles the size of your pinky finger.

I really hate going to the dentist.

But I go twice a year for a teeth cleaning, fingers clenching the armrests. With technology, the experience has been better . . . until this last time.

I guess I grind my teeth. I assume that's what caused the super deep centers in my molars which eventually turned into 3 cavities and one seriously cracked tooth, well, the cracked tooth might be from chomping down on Jolly Ranchers.

Go figure.

Well, I'll probably be a cranky, drooling curmudgeon later, so I'll just bid you all a good day!

Later, Peeps!


Meg said...

Hope everything turned out OK. I just hate needles and the metal syringes!
Crowns are no fun.

Margaret Golla said...

Hated it! At least they used numbing gel. Heck, the doc even offered to give me happy gas for when they gave me the shots.

It took less than an hour for everything to get finished. Still can't bite down hard, but that's not surprising.