I’d rather have a root canal . . .
Hours in the dentist’s chair over weeks and weeks. A few days in between to recover than back to the procedure again. He probed and prodded drilled and poked. This tooth has been bothering me since last November when it got infected and the entire left side of my face doubled or tripled in size. Found an urgent care in Texas and got some antibiotic. It twinged again in January when we were in California and I toyed with the idea of slipping across the border to a Mexican dentist. Instead, my husband made me an appointment on the U.S. side. The dentist found nothing wrong and suggested I get a cleaning, total cost $1000. Wow! A dental cleaning doesn’t even cost that much in New York!
I came home and it got infected again. More antibiotics, and when the infection cleared up we began the root canal. One canal cleaned out, the second canal cleaned out . . . the third canal was calcified. He packed the first two with medicine and a temporary cap and sent me home for another day. I came back and it was just a repeat of the first time. But this time I got another infection and started more antibiotic. But it just got worse. Back to the dentist again; “Three choices,” he tells me. “I send you to a specialist, I pull the tooth, or I pack it up again and you come back for another session. What do you want to do?” There’s a rubber dam and two files stuck in my mouth, so I hold up two fingers. That’s it. I’m done!
He pulled the tooth. I finished the antibiotic. And I’m miserable. My head aches, my throat hurts. Maybe I’ve caught a head cold. Now I just wait and see and pray for relief.