Yesterday morning while I was eating muesli half of one of my back teeth came off.
I must tell you that I was not entirely surprised that something had happened – but I was not expecting it to be this bad. I had known there was something up for a couple of weeks, my tooth hurt and I couldn’t chew on that side of my mouth – but I thought a filling had worked its way loose.
However yesterday there was no more opportunity for denial. I looked down at the little lump of tooth in my hand and with a sinking feeling I Knew.
That I would have to go to the dentist.
Readers I confess that I have not visited the dentist for two years. And it is a confession. If you’re a Catholic then you’ll know all about the Confession Box and confessing your sins prior to First Holy Communion and the like.
And as obviously you didn’t actually have any sins at age seven, you had to make some up. Which in itself was a sin. Eternal damnation!
As we were extremely lapsed Catholics in our house pretty much the next time I went to Confession was for my Confirmation. As I sat in the little wooden box up the side of the freezing church making my mumbled Act of Contrition I was struck by the horror of having to tell the priest when was the last time I had confessed.
That’s how I feel now. How can I tell the dentist that I have not darkened a tooth doctor door for over two years. Even though I knew – I KNEW! – that one of my back molars was about to crack, because they’d “put a watch” on it the last time I was there.
Oh shame on me.
Tell me I’m not alone. Do you go regularly for your six month checkups – or are you a bit of a lapsed dental patient?
To the comments!