Friday morning, I spent three hours in a chair at the endodontist, getting a root canal.
Or, as it happens, most of a root canal. My teeth are weird, with higgledy-piggledy roots that rarely go where skilled dentists expect, and this tooth -- my farthest back, lower right, number thirty, which does not say good things for my dentition -- was pretty unfriendly. And it already had a cap, so the specialist had to work through a smallish opening to avoid weakening the cap.
He found one (1) calcified, unhappy root and cleaned it out, spent time searching for any others, looked at the X-rays, looked at my tooth again and sent me off to the fancy 3-D imaging machine. Even with it, the other bad root was hard to locate. By the time he'd spotted it and found the proper angle of attack, it was time to fill the excavation and schedule me for another session.
The interim condition is less than ideal: having been drilled on, cleaned out and filled, the tooth is more sensitive than before and the filled area is not quite full to the top. So it's a good thing my next appointment is for Wednesday.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
3 years ago