Nothing like a toothache to send me to bed without supper—I mean, who can even think about eating (who can think at all?) when their mouth hurts?
I went to the dentist to have a filling replaced this morning. A crater had formed there over the past 6 months, up until 3 weeks ago when my dental hygienist filled it with a temporary mix of zinc oxide and clove oil (my Google-based guess—I’m no chemist). The temp job was working just fine and I had considered postponing the real deal, but I decided to get it over with. After all, you never know when you’re going to have to hop on a plane that ends up crashing, leaving you deserted on an island for 4 years . . . That’s what happened to Tom Hanks’ character in Cast Away, of course. He ended up having to perform dental surgery on himself using the few resources available to him: a string, a rock, and an ice skate.
Ever since seeing that movie, I’ve been grateful for professional dental care, even if it does make my whole head hurt for several hours later so that I want to retreat to my bed at 5:30 in the evening.
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