Twenty Nine

I spent most of my 29th birthday getting a root canal.  It’s not really as bad as it sounds.  I promise.

It started last Saturday night, when I woke up to horrific tooth pain.  The kind of pain that spreads from your jaw up to your temples and down through your collarbone.  I didn’t catch much sleep that night, and after a quick call to my lovely sister-in-law (who is a dentist in Milwaukee), determined that I probably needed a root canal.

This wasn’t entirely out of the blue – I had been in and out of my dentists’ office about 5 times in the last few months trying to figure out where my sudden sensitivity to cold had come from.  They had told me to wait it out in hopes that the pain would either completely disappear or get much worse and give the cue it was time to act.  (In the end, this turned out to be terrible advice.  If you ever hear this, check with someone else.)

By this time it was Sunday – and Father’s Day to boot.  So no office was going to see me.  Monday we had to get up at 5am to catch a flight to Boston, closely followed by a ferry to Cape Cod to kick off a week of wedding festivities.  And thus, as luck would have it, Tuesday was the best chance I had to see a proper dentist and handle the situation.

It was also my birthday.  Oh well.

After arriving in Truro, we made some calls and found a lovely dentist in Brewster, Massachusetts that could see me last minute.  He checked me out, confirmed I needed a (fairly minor) root canal, and performed it on the spot.  (He also told me that I had been given bad advice to wait it out, as this could have been avoided and reversed back when I first noticed it.  Awesome.)

It took about 2.5 hours and my mouth remained numb for most of the day, but in the end I had an excellent procedure.  The root canal ended my tooth pain, alleviated sensitivity that had been plaguing me for the last few months, and turned out to be cheaper than any office in Denver.  Not the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten, but kind of a win.

So rather than see it as a total bummer and lament the experience, I’m choosing to view it as 28 going out in a fury and making space for a kick ass 29th year.  Because as amazing as 28 was (and trust me, it rocked), 29 looks to be an even more phenomenal year.

And at the end of the day, I still got to eat chocolate cake.  I’ll just hope that my 30th birthday present to myself does not include dental work.

Happy Birthday to me :)

PS – There are no photos to go with this post because, frankly, no one wants to see that.  You’re welcome.

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