Toothfully, I could have done without this

Root canal specialist (who turned out to be a friendly and quite good-looking Indian-from-India doctor) did not give me the okay for a crown. In fact, he found that the root of the tooth is actually cracked - the part that's moving when I bite down on something is not actually the filling, it's the tooth itself. (Cue post-traumatic case of the heebie-jeebies here.) If it were cracked somewhere they could get at it, such as the erupted segment or even the part beneath the gumline, a crown would be an option, but the crack is deep in the bone bed. It was at this point in the explanation that I could tell the doctor was loathe to actually spit out the diagnosis, so I tried to help: "So you're telling me I'm going to have to get it pulled?" And he sort of let out a relieved breath and was all "Yeah, that's about the size of it." Me, matter-of-factly: "Fuck. I was afraid of that." And we both laughed.

So, now it's time to figure out what the next step is. Friendly Handsome Indian Specialist doesn't do extractions, sadly, so today I get to call my normal dentist and see if he wants to do it or refer me to another specialist. Unfortunately, there's enough damage to the bed that I'm probably also going to need a bone graft if I want an implant (which I absolutely do - they're a bigger pain in the butt to have put in but the long-term success rate is far better than bridges), so I'm likely going to have a big gap in my head for the next six-months-to-a-year while the bone graft heals, and then while they drill the post in. Fuck. I was afraid of that. (The doctor said you can often get a spacer for cosmetic purposes, which would be nice, because I'm vain, but that's still another eight-ish months of carefully only chewing on one side. Sigh.)

Well, the only way out is through. At least we have insurance and savings to deal with all of this. I shudder to think what a nightmare a diagnosis like this would be to someone living paycheck-to-paycheck.