Instruments of Torture

Yesterday morning at this time, I found myself sitting in the patient chair at the local endontist's office, examining this scary selection of tools -- and the ubiquitous rubber gloves and wondering how in the heck did I get there.

You see, a root canal I had done 10 years ago had begun to fail, really fail...and this particular doctor decided it was worth trying to save the tooth rather than merely extract it and do an implant. Why? Because it was my right lateral incisor -- yep...my right side front tooth.

Apparently when a root canal fails, it usually happens at the tip of the root...an easy repair job. But not mine. I'm never normal...or simple. My failure happened in the middle third of the root and thus, the good doc had to cut off most of my root yesterday. I wasn't asleep for it. All I had was a huge faceful of Novacaine. I didn't feel anything...but I'll tell ya -- it didn't sound good at all!

I had figured I'd be a bruised mess today, but actually, while it's bad, it isn't as bad as I had thought. No bruises....just a hugely swollen upper lip that looks like I wandered into a wasps' nest. And.. strangely enough, the area underneath my right eye is swollen...guess I'll be wearing sunglasses wherever I go today.

Maybe later, once I've showered and brushed my hair, I'll take a pic for posterity's sake.

Then again...maybe not.