Of course it would stand to reason that right before my much-anticipated trip to Wisconsin, wherein my fiance will be meeting my little brother (and vice-versa) for the first time, I have a major tooth eruption that will need immediate attention.
I woke up in the middle of the night on Sunday with a throbbing face, and it didn't subside until I'd downed 5 advil. I'd just barely made it back to sleep around 7am, to wake up at 8 for work. I went in, brave soul that I am, and worked my full four hours (ha!). As I left, I informed HR that I might not be in for a few days, as My Face Is Exploding. They took it nicely, reminding me, "You look swollen."
I went to the dentist. Dr. Beazlebub was very kind, letting me know my options:
- Attempt to fix it, thus reducing my shame at having to smile with a tiny gap in the far left side of my smile for the Rest of My Life, and furthermore earning his practice untold amounts of Christmas money with which to buy happiness.
- Remove the tooth, and leave me to face my cosmetic shambles of a face.
I am all for cosmetic shambles.
Really, I've thought about it for a long time (aproximately 2 years), and there is no way that I'm going to spend a fortune on saving a tooth that probably won't take well to being saved. I'm especially not fond of the "Attempt" in the first option, because I know first hand how expensive all those attempts could be.
No, I politely informed him that I'm pissed off with the rage of a thousand suns at this tooth, and would like nothing more than to have it cast from my head ASAP. He looked heartbroken, but I did not spare him the sentiment--no need to get his little greedy hopes up on my account. This tooth is getting yanked, come hell or high water.
On a much brighter note, I was able to sleep with much more efficiency last night.
Question: What do you get when you combine a 2-year-old broken tooth with Christmas cheer?