You may remember that I had some dental crises last fall. At this point, I've had one tooth extracted, I've switched dentists, and my new dentist has installed two new crowns. I've gone from being a nervous wreck in the dentist's chair to being fairly relaxed, even giggly at times.
Tomorrow I go in for an implant. It's supposed to be "less traumatic" than the extraction; nonetheless, I will take something to "take the edge off" before I go to bed tonight and again just before the implant tomorrow.
I have no idea what the weekend will be like -- whether I'll bounce right back or whether I'll come home tomorrow afternoon, crawl into bed, and stay there for several hours, covers pulled up to my ears. I may go dancing on Saturday night; I may beg Robert to go without me.
It will be a "play-it-by-ear" weekend. I'll have two follow-up visits with the implant guy. Then some time in late spring or early summer, I'll get a new tooth -- actually a crown on top of the implant. Even if it's a fake, it'll be nice to have a tooth, and a functioning one at that, in that spot again.
Much as I like my new dentist, I will look forward to a time when I see him just twice a year on the occasion of my regularly-scheduled cleanings.
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