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Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The Root Canal That Almost Got Away

Here's something I thought I'd never say:

I'm so relieved to be having a root canal today.

Yes, I thought I'd never be saying something like that due to my previously stated fears of the dentist (mostly inspired by the role Laurence Olivier played in the The Marathon Man), but when I was at the dentist in mid December, I found out I needed to have a root canal. The appointment was booked for me for December 29th.

I'd originally thought, okay, I don't want to spend my Christmas vacation like this, but what the heck, it'll be good to get this procedure done and get off the Tylenol-3 painkillers. (See, I was trying to be all positive about it even back then)

Then, on the 28th of December my dentist's office called. My dentist had fallen on the ice on her way in to work and hurt her elbow bad -- really bad. Thus they were cancelling my root canal for the 29th and would rebook for a few days, perhaps a week later.

On the 29th, the dentist's office called. My dentist's elbow was so damaged that she wouldn't be able to perform lengthy procedures for quite a while, but they'd endeavour to find me an appointment with an oral surgeon. The appointment was made for January 4th. Okay, so, I did like my dentist and was comfortable there -- but again, it'd be nice to just get this done before I became addicted to Tylenol-3.

Yesterday at work the oral surgeon's office called. There was some sort of mix-up about my 11:30 AM appointment for the 4th, where someone seemed to have cancelled my appointment and put someone else in. That and they kept calling me Marco. When asked about the next available appointment, I was told January 18th was the soonest they could get me in. Sigh.

I called my regular dentist's office, thinking - hey, maybe by then, my own dentist would be healed enough to perform the lengthy root canal. After all, was I really all that comfortable going to a place where they couldn't even manage to keep an appointment book straight or properly remember my name. I mean, if it's that confusing using a calendar, do I really want the same people sticking drills inside of my head? (I started to get those familiar old "Marathon Man" shivers and while sitting at my desk at work yesterday started whispering to myself: "Iswhatsafe iswhatsafe iswhatsafe?") But unfortunately, my dentist wouldn't be back to full operation for at least a month. Argh.

I tried calling the oral surgeon's office again, to see if I could beg my way in to my root canal sooner rather than later. Though the pain in my jaw hasn't been all that bad the past week or so (hopped up on Tylenol-3 and antibiotics might be helping), it started to throb yesterday late afternoon and evening. But I couldn't get through.

I was on the GO Train ride home in the early evening when the oral surgeon's office called. They'd found a way to fit me in for my appointment for today at 2 PM. Whew.

They still called me Marco, though.

3 comments:

Rainypete said...

I would think it wouldn't matter if they called you Harriet, so long as they can sort out your jaw.

Maybe that's just me though.

Lara said...

So when they say "Marco", do you ever have an irresistable urge to reply "polo"?

Hope all goes well... glad they could fit you in. :)

Kimberly said...

Does that mean we can call you Marco too....or perhaps Harriet?

Good Luck!