Contrary to this hilarious scene starring Steve Martin in one of his best supporting roles, the operation to kill the nerve under my lost filling went with little difficulty. Now I have to wait until the original dentist I was seeing can install a crown, put an end to my immediate suffering. The pain requiring three-to-four ibuprofen pills (200 mg each) every six hours to calm it down; it never goes away; and the other part I hated, the constant flossing emergencies usually caused by meat and certain vegetables getting stuck.
Sadly, thanks to the upcoming recession induced by Grampa’ Brunches’ masters, fixing my front teeth to stop me resembling a meth addict, keeps getting kicked down the proverbial highway.