So I survived my dentist appointment today, but I’ve got a long road ahead of me. I didn’t luck out with a few fillings. Instead, I left numb from Novocaine with a referral in hand for a Periodontist.
Turns out, I have two options.
First, I could opt for a root canal on a tooth that’s seen much better days. If, and I’ll repeat that, IF there is enough tooth for a crown to attach to, we’re talkin’ that the tooth could last a year, or three if I am lucky.
Or, I could opt to have it pulled and a dental implant placed in it’s spot. A procedure that will most certainly involve a sinus lift and bone graft preceding it. Sure, that fake tooth has a 75-90% success rate, but it costs a great deal of money up front.
My dentist advised me to do the latter. And it’s not about the money because he’s not even doing it. I trust him, I really do. And he knows I am a total hypochondriac but still feels strongly that I should not waste my time/emotion/money on the root canal, and instead should just opt for the implant.
“Do it the right way the first time.” That was DaddyMac’s advice.
After consulting with Dr. Google, I really just wanna stop eating so I never have to chew again and can run away from both options. Good could come from that. I could drop all of the weight I want to loose. Right? And I won’t suffer panic attacks over any pending dental appointments. Right?
The only thing I know for sure is that these thoughts are preoccupying my every, well, thought. And that’s gotta stop.
