So February is all about discomfort and it didn’t take long for major discomfort to come roaring at me. Very funny, universe. You’re freaking hilarious.
I’ve had a split tooth that should have come out some time ago, but it quit hurting and all so I’ve just lived with it as is, but when it split again yesterday leaving about a quarter of it hanging by a thread or two, I had to come to a painful decision: it’s time for that puppy to come out. I’m not in any physical pain to speak of, but otherwise? Holy crap. The truth is, I’m scared of dentists. My experiences with them have been less than positive, usually very painful, and always expensive. But there’s just no other way around it, not this time. I’m going to have to go to the
I’ve been dithering since yesterday about where to go and such–the guy I’ve seen in recent years is not my favorite person ever and he doesn’t do extractions. There are lots of other dentists in town, but how the heck do you choose? It’s a crapshoot no matter what. I more or less threw a dart, I have an initial appointment for X-rays and such this afternoon, and I’m hopeful that I can get this tooth pulled by tomorrow at the latest.
Discomfort? Um, yeah. On a scale of 1-10, I’m roughly at a 12 right now. My physical discomfort may be minimal, but on a mental and emotional level–oh dear. My underwear has ridden WAY up.
So be careful what you wish for, because the universe has a seriously twisted sense of humor and you just might get it.