(This picture doesn't really represent my dentist - he's a kind man. It does represent how I feel about going to the dentist. Weird juxtaposition, I know.)I don't really like to go to the dentist.
I like my dentist, but if I only ever saw him at Gas 'N Shop getting a cappucino, that'd be okay. For 25 years, I've been seeing him once a year for a check-up and a couple of fillings. Small fillings. I have really good teeth.
Except for one.
That one has been the bane of my existance for about 9 months.
Today, we surrendered.
I have to admit that the rumors about root canals and pain, not true. I didn't have any pain during the procedure, and just a bit of tenderness tonight.
For me, the real trauma is the paralyzed half of my face for hours after. I keep feeling like I have to apologize for my mouth not moving. Of course, that would sometimes not be a bad thing, having my mouth not moving . . .
Ah, but that's a whole other story. :o)
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