Last week I had my long-awaited operation at the endodontist’s; she peered into my second upper left molar with a microscope and deftly rooted out all four canals (if that is the right terminology). Of course, it’s uncomfortable at the time but the whole point is that the nerves are all killed, so it stops any further toothache from that source, and I had my best sleep for weeks last weekend.
But I noticed increasing discomfort in my lower jaw opposite the tooth done last week. Even so, when I went to the dentist this morning it was rather a shock when she declared that the lower second molar was broken, and after a little fiddling, the whole inner face sheared off; it was somehow cracked longitudinally, though I have no idea how. She plugged the hole efficiently enough, but now it’s back to the endodontist at her next availability (9 March) and another two and a half weeks of eating on the right side of my mouth in the meantime. It is still pretty uncomfortable, and I have declared that my weekend has started now.
Looking in the mirror this morning I noticed many more visible grey hairs than I remember previously. That, the teeth and the recently acquired bifocals (of which I have no complaints apart from their cost) are making me feel rather middle-aged!