when being right {ahem} bites.

I’m right so often. There are times I wish I weren’t and this is one of ’em.

In three days I return to the endodontist for an evaluation of periodontal conditions and root canal done three weeks ago. The findings will determine whether the final restoration can proceed.

When the procedure was done, a temporary material, not the gutta percha used in a permanent tooth restoration, was inserted into the molar due to extensive infection.

It would be foolhardy, unwise and plain stupid to permanently seal a tooth under the conditions, akin to locking in infection and inviting more serious trouble and damage down the road.

Thus the molar was left “pending.”

As I blogged and told well-wishers at the time, whoa! don’t pop the cork prematurely! this is not a done deal! My prediction before treatment was that I’d be back for a second visit and possibly put on a course of further procedures. I foresaw two possible paths, neither fun, both advanced and costly. Only time would tell. Time with the help of a skilled endodontist.

I love being right, except when being right sucks!

Symptoms are presenting suggesting that all is not well in the state of Denmark gums, bone and tooth.

I will say no more aside from the same: This is not a done deal. I fear this will be a far more expensive extended endeavor than my budget can absorb. I’m bracing for not-good news.

I’m far more anxious, apprehensive and uneasy going into Tuesday’s visit than I was for the hour planted in the chair with that dental dam getting shot full of Novacaine and having pulp and infected gunk excavated from a molar with teeny-tiny handheld drills that dig down deep into roots and teeny-tiny canals.

Admittedly, the potentialities were perceived, the handwriting on the wall read so I couldn’t be too surprised if the endodontist is the messenger of bad news Tuesday.

Still, it’s not the hoped-for outcome; it’s a case of being right with no cause pour la célébration – and rather cause pour la cocktails.

Advertisement