Slice of Life #7
I find the term crown ironic when used for the cover from an impression made for a tooth after drilling the bejappers out of said molar. I got a crown late last week. Thursday it had a teensy gap, so crown went back to the lab. The temporary had been fine. On Friday afternoon Dr. B and assistant did various maneuvers and took tools to my jaw until the new crown was deemed ready to glue in.
“Bite down hard!” the dentist said, “And grind your jaws,” he instructed while the bit of blue paper showed the bite. “I need the green stone,” he told the assistant. And I went home satisfied that the coronation of my molar would feel good as soon as my gums rested.
But no, on Sunday I left a message and Monday went back after school to see why I can’t stand any pressure on my right jaw.
Picture tall man with mask and scrubs, with booming voice. “Laura, I told you you might need a root canal!”
“Let’s not go there quite yet, doctor,” I countered sliding into the chair. We repeated the blue paper, bite, grind and look routine. The dentist immediately used the green stone to take off some of the crown at the front end, incidentally where it seemed most sore. We did that again, and then I was dismissed.
“Give it a few days,” said the dentist. “But your gums look good!”
Because I had to go to the dentist, now I’m home earlier than expected. With a small handful of Ibuprofen on board, the ache is toning down to an annoyed itch feel on my jaw.
The scene here is lovely in my dining room. Mom’s on her ChromeBook, my editor jromaine daughter is working on a project for Got Science, my granddaughter has photographed a tomato in 5 different lights, then settled onto her ChromeBook. Mickey curled up in the basket by the window and my keyboard is clicking away.
And I am thinking of crowns more as accomplishments now. Not annoying caps. The real crown of the afternoon is getting to see my daughter and granddaughter, who kindly took mother to her dermatology appointment this afternoon.