The Tooth, The Whole Tooth...

I have bad teeth.

I inherited this from my parents, unfortunately--and like my Dad's hairline, it's one of the few things I inherited that I'd gladly give back.

Even worse, one of my medications tends to leach calcium from my system, so that even with calcium substitutes, my teeth are even more prone to breakage.

And that's just what happened... again.

Last night, I broke a tooth on a chocolate chip cookie (well, if you gotta break a tooth, at least break it on something you like!). No nuts, nothing hard in there--just a cookie. I called Doc Sturn, my friend and my dentist, and he told me to come on by this morning. His schedule was packed, but he somehow squeezed me in and I now have a temporary crown. The permanent crown should be in by the middle of the month.

At this rate, I won't have many real teeth left to break! I think I'm up to six crowns now, which is nothing to be proud of, believe me...

And this in spite of the fact that I brush twice a day (I only eat two meals a day), I use prescription flouride, I use a hydrogen peroxide rinse followed by mouthwash, I floss... Sometimes heredity trumps everything, it seems.

And this is just the start of the Week of Medical Procedures I Don't Like. On Friday morning, I have a nuclear stress test scheduled. I don't mind the stress test part, but I really hate the intravenous needle in the back of my hand for three hours or so...

The good news? A week from today it'll all be over...