Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Getting To The Root Of My Problem

I've been putting off going to the dentist for a long time now.  First, I didn't want to interfere with my internship.  Then I didn't want to interfere with my RD exam study time.  Finally, after months of wrangling for an appointment, I finally went to the dentist.

For a root canal.  You know all the jokes people say about how they'd rather be having a root canal (maybe it's just me)? Well, they're not very funny jokes.  My dentist didn't have knock out gas, or even head phones, which I forgot to bring, along with music.  Instead, to drown out the sound of the drill, I used the cotton plugs employed to stop bleeding.  Needless to say, it didn't drown out anything.

I'm used to dentists who like to talk about what they're doing, both professionally and personally.  It can be frustrating at times, especially when you want to join into the conversation, and your mouth is extended as you struggle to breathe.  But that was only part of my problem this time.  My dentist didn't speak to me at all and I had no clue how far along in the process I was at any given time.

And it did hurt.  Afterwards, I filled a prescription for Motrin 600 mg, and promptly ate one.  I counted the hours until the next one, but got caught up in my job.  I came home to find out that my husband and I had been invited out to a business dinner (a local chiropractor was hosting as a way to drum up business) at a wonderful kosher restaurant.  I was all set to order something really good, when I took a bite of an appetizer and went through the roof.  I had forgotten to down a Motrin and basically couldn't eat.  I was suck with soup for dinner.

Ironically, the chiropractor talked about the evils of anti-inflammatory pain medication as I sat there pinning away for Motrin.  Everything most definitely has its place.  Unfortunately, the Motrin, and pain relief, was miles away.

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