At my age, medical and dental issues are basically a crap-shoot: Ya win some; ya lose some. However, I would be grateful if the universe stopped kicking my ass for just a half a second.
By pure coincidence, a random x-ray for something else reveals that I need a root canal. Now. Like, yesterday. I had zero idea. No pain, no twinges, no changes in tooth strength. This is how I find myself in the endodontist chair for the second time in my life.
My first root canal, performed decades ago, led to a massive infection in my upper jaw, necessitating surgery, and then I lost the tooth, anyway, much to the ire of my parents who had to pay for it all. Needless to say, I'm not holding out much hope for this tooth, either. But, I'm willing to give it the old-lady try. After all, it would be kind of cool to have a couple of my own teeth still inside my skull when the Big Ride is done.
The endodontist snaps a couple of x-rays and shows me an even better image of what's going on. He can't believe I'm not in pain. He taps a metal implement against the tooth in question and one next to it. "Doesn't this hurt?" No, Doc, I swear that I am now and hope to remain pain-free.
I tilt back in the dental chair for sixty minutes, trying to keep my mouth open. Only once do I raise my hand to let Doc know I can feel what you're doing there, partner. Several drops of Novocaine go into the open tooth area (Root? Canal? Root canal?), and we're quickly back in business.
When this first appointment is over, I try to stand from the dental chair only to discover that my neck has atrophied. I quite literally cannot put my chin down. I look like a carcass that has just been released from the gallows after hanging. Just perfect. My jaw might be on the road to recovery, but I seem to have suffered a spinal dislocation.
I'm soon sent on my way to the pharmacy, where the internet provider has crashed, so I wait. Can I come back later? they ask me. No. I am here now. Please, for the love of all things sane, GET ME SOME MEDS. While the pharmacy waits for the internet to come back online after a massive outage, I shop for the ibuprofen that I also need. Eventually, my medications and I make our way home.
I am thrilled to discover that I've grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen without a child-resistant cap. Finally, something is easy to open. I'm so excited because, honestly, between my jaw and my neck, I'm ready for some smooth sailing. I open the container without any karate needed. Everything is going along so well, until --
This damn piece of anti-human engineering will not yield. I pick at every edge, pull on every tab, but nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to open this packet.
Except a steak knife.
I find an older steak knife, one I don't care about if I were to snap off the blade. The weapon is clean and it is sharp. I take aim, pull my wrist back to strike, and I attack that ibuprofen bottle like I'm Norman Bates with a shower curtain.
Minutes later, I am able to begin my antibiotics plus ibuprofen regimen. I do have to go back tomorrow for root canal day #2. I am already anticipating having my neck twisted like I've been to the gallows, and I might even have some pain.
It's okay. I'm old. Pain means I'm still alive. After all, this whole exercise is basically a crap-shoot. I'll let you know how the dice play out.
