Round about the end of April, I was sitting in the bishop's office with the priests' quorum. Nearby, a tiny box of Milk Duds, in the free-for-all candy bowl.
So I yoink the box and start chewing.
First two duds, fine.
Third dud, uh-oh.
There's suddenly a bare spot in my mouth where a decade-old crown had been. And, along with that last dud, it's no longer in my mouth.
Many moons ago, my Dad also swallowed a crown. So he kept an eye on his output, and took the likely sausage out to the garden in the back yard, in Mom's kitchen strainer, to fish it out. That proved difficult as:
1. He'd eaten a lot of corn.
2. The next-door-neighbor spotted him sifting his output.
I was not going to do that. But I had to have the tooth fixed, because a few weeks before that something broke on the other side of my mouth and it was making chewing more of a challenge.
So I got a new tooth. Pretty cool I did not have to wait two weeks for the new crown; they crafted it in-office, thus:
I then went in for a regular checkup a few months later. Remember that part that broke off on the other side? Well, it now warranted a root canal and crown of its own, so I have yet another new tooth:
While I'm grateful I didn't have to wait for this new tooth as well, I could wish that all of this hadn't happened in the same quarter.
So it's been a rough year, tooth-wise. My next appointment isn't until 2024, so here's to hoping nothing untoward happens tooth-wise.
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