Oh crap

I went to the dentist yesterday morning for my semi-annual cleaning and checkup. It went well. They told me everything looks great. Great job. I basked in the glory that taking good care of my teeth provides, and left with smug satisfaction in my dental care efforts.

This morning, I was eating a Cheez-It. Some of it stuck in my teeth, probably because they are so friggin' clean and well-cared for. I was extricating it with my tongue when I felt something odd. I was missing a piece of one of my upper molars. A pretty dang big piece. Oh crap.

I know it had just happened because it is a big enough chunk that I would have felt it whenever it happened. Plus I can no longer drink liquids without excruciating pain. I must have swallowed it without knowing. Dang Dang Dang!

Anyway, it's Saturday morning, I called my dentist (at home) and left a message about my dilemma. I haven't heard back yet but I hope he can put in a temporary filling sometime soon so I can eat. I'm not worried about the tooth but I'm painfully aware that I may be on a restricted diet until it's fixed.

And for added fun, I'll be starting the new job on Monday morning. How will it look when I arrive there and immediately ask for time off to get a broken tooth fixed? I guess we'll find out. I'll tell you, in my old office, where sick time was reserved only for those people experiencing severed limbs or who were doctor-certified to be in a coma (providing a recent EEG for proof), it would be an eye-rolling, gossip-inducing, tongue-clucking request that would haunt you the rest of your days. I kind of hate to introduce the sick-leave litmus test so quickly to my new employment, but what can I do? If I can't eat, I won't be worth a dang.

And the worst part? It makes me feel old to have a tooth break off. I don't have great teeth, but I have my own teeth. In the words of my grandson, "Poop Sandwich!" which I believes translates to "Oh crap!"