I'd Rather Have a Root Canal

That is, until I need one.

This is the end of my week so I like to post a long and interesting blog on Thursday, but today that is not to be.

This is a tale of two dentists, although one is an endotontist. Just in case I, or anyone else, was not aware of what an endodontist does, the information is displayed on his front door: ROOT CANAL THERAPY.

While chewing on a Stacy's Pita Chip last Friday I felt a terrible pain. It began in an upper right tooth, shot up the side of my nose, through my eyeball, into my brain and burst from the top of my head. I was glad I was not wearing a hat at the time as it would have flown across the room. 

I think I have a problem was my first thought. It will go away was my second.

Like me, my teeth are not getting any younger and are unlikely to repair themselves.

After almost one week I thought some medical assistance was in order.

So, I called Wanda and drove to her office.

The dentist took x-rays and looked at them, he poked around my mouth. "Yes, you need a root canal," he said. So, I drove over to another office where they took x-rays and poked around my mouth.

It's getting late so here is what I know now.

Not much.

I have another appointment in two weeks. The endotontist wants to wait.

Sparky has a new window perch but he's still sulking in the garage.

By the way, is this "Airing my dirty laundry in public?" And, if so, from now on I will try to launder it first.

See you on Monday, if not sooner.