Warning: This blog involves talk of dentistry and the feeling of having a tooth pulled. Nothing graphic, but it makes my stomach wince thinking about it, so I thought it’d be best to warn you before I begin.
When I was 13 years old I found out that I’d hit the genetic jackpot: no wisdom teeth whatsoever. I was also missing a lower bottom molar, but my then dentist assured me that it was no huge problem. And it wasn’t until a few weeks ago when I stuck the handle of a razor in my mouth to hold it while I tried to lather my legs up to shave. I bit down on the handle and a burst of pain shot through my very back upper molar. Unusual because up until then I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with it. Not when I eat, not when I drink, the only time it bothered me was when I was brushing my teeth and trying to maneuver my too large brush head into the space between the back of that tooth and my jaw bone. I made an appointment to see the dentist, missed it then I made another appointment to see the dentist at 12:30pm yesterday. I went in expecting to have a needle in the side of my mouth and my tooth filled, I was sure it was just a cavity and that it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. That didn’t stop me from worrying about having the cavity filled, in spite of the reassurances from family and friends who have had much worse done.
Hi I'm Becky, often referred to as The Knitting Hillbilly and Pussybear, owner of this site and general nuisance. I'm a knitter, serial complainer, known whistle blower and I run the ever popular Internet Police with my friend Sarai. Want to know more about me?