Monday, December 12, 2005

Flossing: history revealed

Not long ago, a bit of shredded meat got stuck under one of my crowns (the dental kind, not the princess kind, unfortunately), and after half a roll of Glide floss (the multiple orgasm of floss, really) I finally admitted defeat and called my dentist.

Seconds after ascending his throne and being tipped upside down, I was informed that the tooth next to the crown had a little cavity. I accepted his offer of a quick fill, and my life has never been the same.

Let's just sum it up: nerve damage. . . the charming sensation of lightning bolts alternating with rusty nails being shoved up inside the tooth, now nicknamed stubby the evil bastard. . . a lovely procedure to have it opened and drained. . . a root canal in two parts. . . a broken filling on the other side, the only side on which I could chew. . . and a month later, I'm still sporting stubby and food is still getting caught under that crown.

In the middle of all this, I changed dentists. The new guy is great, but I'm real tired of hanging out in his office. We filled the broken beast on the other side, and then the tooth next to it decided to make itself known.

Lo, another crown, more torture, and gums that now go ballistic when I eat meat. I haul out the Glide flosspicks and dig like a pirate on a beach. It's kinda scary. Bits are turning up days later--even after I've flossed three days in a row. Where does the food hide? How does the broccoli stay bright green?

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