I've lost count actually. Replacing a bunch of leaky and/or loose 25-year-old fillings takes a few trips. Not to mention pulling five that were too broken to save.
Today was that last extraction. And I know I've said I love my dentist. I do. I loved Dr. C - he was kind and gentle and a good dentist and I was sad when he left to work at a practice nearer his home. But I was a bit distressed when the last extraction took three hours; that bad boy was in there tight.
But wow... Dr. E (who took over for Dr. C) is even better. She's equally gentle and kind. She's very encouraging and willing to tell me what she's doing every step of the way (which makes me less freaky). She clearly takes a certain amount of delight in the patient wanting to know what's going on. She even writes prescriptions out legibly.
And it only took her about twenty minutes - from slipping that nitrous mask over my nose to the end game - to get this tooth out. I was out of the dentist's office in less than 30. That's freaking amazing.
This means I'll actually have time to job hunt as well as finishing the laundry and packing Abby's bag for camp. I don't think I'll attempt school work though; the painkillers (from my favorite pharmacy) are starting to kick in. And it's not a class in surrealism.
Love my dentist.
Still hate dentistry, but love my dentist.
Now I'm going to go eat stuff with bits in.