Ow

My dentist spoke to me, after turning aside to suppress the gag reflex at the irredeemably gaping cesspool he was looking into. He poked a few more times at my tooth. "Ya," he said. "That one. The one that still has a little life to it." Well. Enough life to feel pain, at least.

Ow.

OK. I had a mouth sore like a sand worm spice blow on my gum. Ow. He got some kind of wire pick device and poked into the gum around the tooth(s) that hurt. OW! I noticed he used extra anti-ceptic and turned on the X-Ray machine to full blast just to be sure. You can't be too careful, you know.

Ow?

There's some history here. A month ago I came in with a toothache and had an X-Ray. I thought I had a cavity or ferrets living in my jaw or something. They said I had a sinus infection and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic and sent me on my way. Ten days, which I took, dutifully.

Six weeks later and it is still here, dutifully.

So I'm back. Ow?

He poked in my gums some more. OK. Ow.

"You probably have a fissure," said my dentist. "I can feel a five drop, which is normal. Then suddenly a seven. That is usually the symptom of a fisher."

"A fissure?" I said. "Like the Grand Canyon or something?"
"It could be that. Or an infection. Or a dead tooth."
"Oh. I took the antibiotic last month. It seemed to help, but didn't do the whole job."
"I'm not leaning that way."
"What else could it be?"
"Well. A fissure crack. Or a dead tooth."
"Oh. And a dead tooth would spell a root canal, right?"
"Yes, that might be necessary."
"And a fissure?"
"Well, it could be something."
"What do you mean, could be something?"
"There are many possibilities."
"A crown?"
"Well, yes. And maybe an implant."
"I had one of those already. Not fun."
"We need to watch it for a few weeks."

Great. I'm watching my blood pressure. Watching my heart valve. Watching my salt intake. Watching my cholesterol. Watching my retirement portfolio. Watching Doctor Who. Now I have to watch my teeth? What next? Watching my watch to make sure it doesn't go metric?

He did notice the mouth sore on my gum. It's still there after a month and is now about the size of the crater in Hiroshima. It's right by the cheek bone and could be responsible for the pain in my head. Well. Some of the pain that is my head. Maybe. I've got to watch that, too.

Fine.

Lisa, the hygienist, finished freshening up my teeth. She had access to the same picks and my same gums. "That doesn't look like a seven to me," she said.

OW!