The Whole Tooth
You know I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
(Lyrics from “I Can’t Smile without You,” a song version sung by Barry Manilow, released in 1978)
The best laid plans of mice, men, and this female writer went awry this week when one of my upper molars reached its breaking point. Laid back on a dental chair, the tooth of the matter became readily apparent when my dentist broke the news that its crack had spread as far as the bone, so he couldn’t save it.
Any hope I had previously harbored for a drill & fill, or even a root canal as a last resort, was purely pulp fiction. Under the influence of Novocain, I endured the extraction of #13. While the gap from a missing tooth is not very discernible, pride in my set of pearly whites behooves me to subdue my toothy grin for the duration it takes for an oral surgeon to screw in an implant, and for my dentist to mold a crown.
Always one to find a silver lining in a cloud, even if it’s not a mercury filling, my sliver of silver is a newfound attitude toward marketing and promoting my upcoming second novel, 'An Enlightening Quiche.' Not so much during the moonlighting stages while it’s in production, but later when I’m hoping for potential readers to acquire it. I don’t plan on sweating the small stuff such as whim in reflecting promising or dismal book sales.
What is most important to me in the grand scheme of things is maintaining good health and sustaining the love of family. Without those two propositions, I couldn’t laugh, sing, and would find it hard to do most anything.
Underlying Notes
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
(Lyrics from “I Can’t Smile without You,” a song version sung by Barry Manilow, released in 1978)
The best laid plans of mice, men, and this female writer went awry this week when one of my upper molars reached its breaking point. Laid back on a dental chair, the tooth of the matter became readily apparent when my dentist broke the news that its crack had spread as far as the bone, so he couldn’t save it.
Any hope I had previously harbored for a drill & fill, or even a root canal as a last resort, was purely pulp fiction. Under the influence of Novocain, I endured the extraction of #13. While the gap from a missing tooth is not very discernible, pride in my set of pearly whites behooves me to subdue my toothy grin for the duration it takes for an oral surgeon to screw in an implant, and for my dentist to mold a crown.
Always one to find a silver lining in a cloud, even if it’s not a mercury filling, my sliver of silver is a newfound attitude toward marketing and promoting my upcoming second novel, 'An Enlightening Quiche.' Not so much during the moonlighting stages while it’s in production, but later when I’m hoping for potential readers to acquire it. I don’t plan on sweating the small stuff such as whim in reflecting promising or dismal book sales.
What is most important to me in the grand scheme of things is maintaining good health and sustaining the love of family. Without those two propositions, I couldn’t laugh, sing, and would find it hard to do most anything.
Underlying Notes
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