Teeth

I hate 'em.

(Well, just ignore 'em and they'll go away! Yuk, yuk.

I wish.)

Apparently this headache/jawache/sinusache from yesterday has its origins in a bad tooth. Feels a little swollen this evening, but I don't know if it's abcessed or just swollen from having been bumped around while chewing, being explored with my tongue, etc.

Thank god for Orajel. I had a tube in the bathroom that must be ten years old, at least. Fortunately there's no 'best if used by' date on Orajel. I guess it lasts forever. Plus I'm loaded with aspirin.

My front teeth are all in good shape. The molars are a disaster area, full of crumbling 45-year-old fillings put in by a 6'4" dentist with huge nostrils and hands made for the NBA.

I don't know how old my Dad was when he went to full dentures. No one in my family made it to retirement age with all - or any, I guess - of their teeth.

About seven years ago, I began a lengthy process to have all my teeth upgraded, patched, resurfaced, redecked, energy efficient lighting, whatever. Spent about two thousand dollars on the first round of work, then lost my job and could go no further.

Every time I get a toothache I think of that song "Ol' Dan Tucker" –– he died of a toothache in his heel, the song said. I've never heard of anyone actually dying of a toothache, but it seems like it could be possible. So, I'll lie awake tonight worrying about that.

I hate teeth.