Neth Smiley

On 12/23, a crown fell off my tooth.

Rather to my surprise, my new dentist (my first regular appointment is a week from today) was able to see me almost immediately. Got there, had a bunch of X-rays taken, and saw Dr Nguyen, who informed me that there was nothing she could do that day; there was not enough tooth to put a new crown onto. My choice was to (a) have it pulled and put in an implant -- I already have one; they're weird -- , or (b) see a periodontist, who would determine whether enough tooth could be rebuilt to put a crown onto, and if not, revert to (a). After a few days of dithering, I decided to go straight to (a).

She gave me a referral good for a trip to a periodontist.

She also gave me one good for a trip to an endodontist, because the root of #11 (cuspid or fang or canine, depending on what you like to call it, on the upper left) is resorbing. The endodontist probably won't be able to do anything about it but just in case.

So I scheduled an extraction for this afternoon.

Tuesday, they called me and asked me if I could possibly make it a little earlier. I explained that that would be rather inconvenient.

Yesterday, they called me and told me that if I couldn't make it much earlier -- 9:40 this morning -- they would have to put it out a couple of weeks. I went with 9:40 this morning.

They took another X-ray of the tooth in question (#19, the second molar on the lower left) and Doctor determined that she wasn't confident she could do the job; one of the two roots on #19 is severely hooked; so I would have to have it done by an oral surgeon.

The only good part of those two visits, where they took X-rays and determined that there was nothing they could do for me, is that I was charged nothing for either of them.

Special bonus additional condition: I have to have the extraction done soon, because I'll be flying to France at the end of the month and I do not want to be doing that with recent oral surgery: too much risk of the wound reopening when we hit high altitude, and bleeding profusely all over me and the upholstery. That would not be a good plan, as Pooh would say. And I'll be there for a bit of a while, helping Beloved Spousal Overunit find a house, so I really don't want to wait till I get back, either.

So, as soon as I got home, I called my dental insurance company and they sent me a list of oral surgeon in the area who take their insurance. I plugged them into a spreadsheet, then sorted them by (a) rating and (b) distance from where I live. The seventh (about a 20-minute drive) had an opening -- glorioski -- next Monday afternoon, only could I please have my regular dentist's office send over the relevant X-rays? Which, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, they agreed to do on my verbal release over the phone, with the promise that I would sign an official release at the oral surgeon's place, to be faxed back to them.

Plus! The oral surgeon is also a periodontist, so can do any bone graft needful for the later insertion of the actual implant.

So, it appears that sometimes the stars can suddenly align, and things come right. Sometimes. Maybe. I hope. Please.