Yesterday I had to go to the dentist, which is not one of my favorite things to do, although I don't dislike it like some. A little while ago I had a filling come out, and when it came out it took part of a tooth with it. It didn't really hurt, so I've been ignoring it.
As I was thinking about going to Honduras next week, I thought I would be wise to get it fixed. I didn't really relish the idea of Pedro and his channel lock pliers probing around in my mouth, although it would be cheaper.
We don't have any dental insurance, so it makes the visit a little more painful. But I went anyway. The dentist looks at the crater and says, "Whoa! Have you had a root canal on that tooth?"
"No."
"Wow, that's really, really deep."
"Oh."
"Hmmm. I'll try be really careful so we that don't break through there and cause you pain. But I'm not sure..."
"OK."
First he used the high speed drill. Then he said, "I think I'll use the slow drill, the big grinder, just in case. It's going to vibrate a lot. Let me know if hurts. You can holler if you want."
"OK."
I must confess I was getting a little nervous at this point, but it never got too bad. I never had any pain. That will come when the bill comes.
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