I have been doubled over in an inordinate amount of pain the past several days. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and it hurts to talk (note: I did not say “can’t” on the latter point; gotta make an exception somewhere).
The culprit? A canker.
Evidently I do not have high pain tolerance.
In my defence, that Mother of All Cankers is the offspring of the three hours I spent in the dentist’s chair last week as she prepped my decaying mouth for a major overhaul. Some of you may remember my first dental appointment after birthing Hadley–that same rendez-vous that revealed my nine-month pukefest had done irreparable damage to my teeth.
Just as we were making attempts to fix it, I found out I was pregnant with Bode and so we had to hold off.
Well, I was on-hold for about eighteen months: nine for the pregnancy, another nine mustering up the nerve to go back in. During that time, simple cavities and fillings blossomed into a veritable rock rot garden of crowns and root canals.
Who knew?
Tomorrow is my first of many follow-up visits wherein I pour my life savings into my mouth. My dentist referred me to an endodentist for Phase I. Not familiar with endos? This is a medical term for Chinese Torture.
Or a Pollack Mercenary. Sadly, I know all about that, too.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 