"Toothiness"

So I don't really like the dentist. And my dentist is a nice guy too! So is his son who has gone into practice with him. They are both very nice guys. Like to laugh. Always trying to make sure you're comfortable, even if they think you are the biggest baby they have ever met, they do not let you know they think that. But I don't like the dentist anyway. I don't know if its related to some deep dark secret in my past or what, but if I have to go, even to get my teeth cleaned, I'm reluctant, hesitant, and willing to be led astray before embarking. I bring this up because I've been spending a lot of time with the dentist the last few weeks. It kind of began before that about 8 months ago when I completed getting a root canal and cap. I thought I would be through seeing both the endodontist (who is a very nice man as well, soft spoken, plays classical music) and the regular dentist for quite a while. Only the occasional stops to get the teeth scraped, gums gouged, you know that kind of thing. But it didn't work out that way. It began innocently enough with a hike. Hubby and I like to take hikes in the state in which we live (no, not the state of confusion, focus people!). We find these trails that are secluded and beautiful within driving distance and spend our afternoons clomping around in our hiking boots watching the locals dive for cover as we come over a ridge. Sometimes the animals run away, too. But I digress. We had found a nice little trail near the Princeton area, had traveled on it and walked into the beautiful town of Princeton for a bite to eat. Hiking is thirsty work, but you can get hungry, too. We found a great place to eat and settled down to watch people and nosh. They brought this delicious soup to the table, potato, leek and blue cheese soup. I'm telling you it was ambrosia for the tongue. It was also very hot, which was fine because the weather was still early spring-nippy. But as I slurped the soup, the heat caused one of the back teeth to well, cry out, is the best way I can describe it. Now, if you've never had a tooth cry out, you're fortunate. There is nothing like the throbbing insistence of a tooth-ache. Trust me on this. It robs you of all coherent thought, except how much this sucker hurts. I tried to be stoic so Hubby wouldn't realize anything was wrong. But he can read me like a book and besides I was wincing every time I swallowed a mouthful. By the time we got home, my head was pounding, not just the tooth. But I took some pain relievers and they relieved my pain (isn't modern medicine wonderful) and tried not to think of the tooth. The thing is, I could avoid having pain if I a) chewed on the other side of my mouth and b) if everything was the temperature of oatmeal which had been sitting out for about an hour. Not too cold, not too warm, but just right. Nothing is ever that temperature for long, so I was constantly adjusting the temperature of hot tea with ice cubes and yogurt with the microwave. You get the idea. I kept thinking that it was the tooth that had received the root canal. But having a root canal means the nerve is gone which is the thing which cries out. I even looked up if it was possible that a root canal didn't "take", you know, like the color on your roots don't take in your hair when you reach a certain age. Anyway, the endodontist who did the work on me before is a very well respected and careful doctor. So I couldn't just say he did a lousy job. But man, that tooth was annoying. So finally, I couldn't stand it any more and went to the dentist. I told him that the tooth that had the root canal was bothering me. Or at least I thought it was that tooth. He smiled in his soothing way and said, it couldn't be that tooth as there was nothing left inside it to feel pain. And then he told me, "let's just see which tooth it might be." As I said before I don't like going to the dentist. When he suggested that we would find out which tooth it was, I don't know what I thought he would do. What he did do was take some kind of metal implement, spray something on it to give it arctic coldness and proceed to touch my back teeth with this. He lingered on the tooth with the cap, telling me what he was doing so I would know that it couldn't be that tooth. Yeah okay, so you were right, I thought. And then he touched the one next to it. After prying my fingers from his wrist, he smiled a little more defensively and said, "Well it's the one right next to that capped one." I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be glad I had the general area down or just be grateful he wasn't using that instrument of torture anywhere else in my mouth. It is now 3 months later. I had to chew on the left side of my mouth for all that time. He referred me to the nice endodontist who played Mozart and spoke softly (a problem for me as he wore a mask also and I wear hearing aids and couldn't read his lips, but we managed), we did another root canal and I now have a new cap next to the other one. But I swear, as God is my witness, I'm not going through this again for a very long time. If I have a toothache, I'm going to suppress it with drugs and bite leather belts or whatever else I have to do. And if it means adding ice to my tea, well, Goldilocks, look out! It's gonna have to be just right for some time.