Sporting Amy Winehouse Mouth

I broke a tooth yesterday. It shattered when I bit down on some hard bit in a Dunkin Donuts sausage breakfast sandwich. I don't want to think too hard about what that was. The pain was incredible. It was like getting punched in the face by a zombie brandishing an ice pick.

So, despite my total paralyzing fear of dentists, I called one and made an appointment. Later that afternoon I go in. I manage to burst into tears from sheer anxiety when filling out the paperwork, scare the crap out of the receptionists with aforementioned outburst, and make most of the paperwork illegible due to tears. The receptionist was really nice, as was the girl who came out to lead me to the office. She probably noticed me shaking like a chihuahua in a snowstorm, and I appreciated the kindergarten teacher approach to dealing with me.

The tech gives me an x-ray, me in the lead blanket, her hiding in another room. I burst into tears again, this time for absolutely no reason. Then the dentist comes in. Big, friendly Russian guy, shakes my hand, starts explaining everything in the nicest way possible. It turns out the tooth is basically ruined, and as a bonus, I need a root canal. Tomorrow.

As devastated as I was to hear the news, his follow up of "we'll give you vicodin for the pain" really softened the blow. For some reason, any anxiety I had was cured by the idea of painkillers.

So my roommate and I went to fill my prescription, wondering aloud why dentistry immediately goes to heavy painkillers when a problem comes up. I take some and pass out. I get up this morning, shaking with terror, and go to my appointment.

The dentist told me yesterday that we'll use as much novocaine as it takes to numb me. When I get there, I immediately get 3 shots of novocaine. Those fucking hurt. Then another. Then 2 more just in case. We go through the procedure, me listening to my iPod the whole time. I didn't feel a damn thing. Still can't, I'm rocking a totally numb left side of my face. Six shots of novocaine, I could take a sledgehammer to the face and not notice.

So my shattered tooth is mostly gone, and I get a crown and a cap or something a week from Monday. Until then, I get to have a gap in my teeth. I feel like such a hillbilly. Or Amy Winehouse.

Maybe I should get a bouffant and finish off the look...