And Jill Came Tumbling After...

Growing up, I had excellent teeth. I never even had a cavity until I was 20 years old. (Yeah, 20 was a bad year...cavities and bifocals.) As a result, I have always been a baby about dental work. To this day, I still remember with disgust having to have impressions for my retainer. I whine, I complain. It's just part of what the dentist has to put up with to get my money.

Well, imagine my surprise late last year when my dentist announced that I needed a crown and possible root canal. Instant horror. However, it had been a couple of years since I made myself go to the dentist, so I blamed myself and my dental insurance. If they had just had my old dentist in the network, I would have continued to go and I am sure this whole debacle would have been avoided.

So, I got the crown. The root canal was avoided (because God takes care of the chosen people). I whined a bit, but was fine by dinner.

Fast forward to Saturday night. Shlomo and I had just spent a very nice evening watching the St. Petersburg Ballet's modern interpretation of Bizet's Carmen. We came home, relaxed a little, and were getting ready to call it a day.

I was brushing my teeth and all was well. Brush, brush, brush. Then, it felt very odd. There was a big chunk of something in my mouth. It was my crown. It literally fell out. Shock. Followed by pain. Followed by major pain if I inhaled wrong and the cold air hit it. Rinsing my mouth with water...ouch. It was not good. It was also midnight. What do you do then? Answer: not much. Go to bed. Live with the pain. Try to sleep.

Not shockingly, I was awake by 7:30 on Sunday morning. At 8:00, I was having a debate as to how early was too early to call the dentist. I decided that if I were my dad, this would be late so I called and left a message. Shlomo got up around 9:30 and we decided that if we had not heard back from my dentist by 11:00, we would call his dentist.

Time passed. I whined. Shlomo ate. I could not. Really, I wanted him to eat. He should not suffer for this. And, I am not a big cereal fan to begin with. 11:00 rolled around. We called his dentist. He could meet us at his office at noon.

11:55...my phone rings. It's my dentist. I let it roll to voice-mail. He was out of town. We walk in the building. Shlomo's dentist could not have been nicer. He did the prep work, deadened the left side of my mouth, mixed the cement and was putting my crown in place. I was fine until he said, "Shlomo, could you pick up that suctioning device? I need you to suction while I spray this." WTF? Shlomo is no dentist assistant. Get me out of there. It was like I was Jennifer Garner on "Alias" facing some Chinese torture specialist who wanted my secrets.

Shlomo suctioned. The dentist sprayed. I prayed. It all turned out okay. In fact, two hours later, I was enjoying a turkey burger and onion rings. But it left me with my revised nursery rhyme:


Brush and bristle go to and fro'
Cleaning my molars as they go.
Brush went down.
Out came my crown.
That really hurts...just so you know.