Following Thursday's delicious Thanksgiving meal, rounded-off nicely with my wife's scrumptious pecan pie, I woke on Friday with what I dismissed as just a mouth ulcer. I was wrong. By Saturday, it was obvious that one of my wisdom teeth had erupted forth like the proverbial Krakatoa, inflaming my gum to the point where I had to begin swallowing Advil like they were Reese's Pieces.
At the beginning of last year, my dentist warned me that this might happen. Having just shelled-out on a crown and a couple of doses of root canal work, I was unable to cover the cost of having a wisdom tooth yanked as well. Besides, I have a distinct aversion to dentistry (I call it butchery) and I was happy with the excuse at the time.
Having resolved to get it immediately dealt with, I found myself catching the cold that had been ravaging the rest of my family for the last few days. I have a croaky sore throat and frequent congestion - neither of which go well with back-of-mouth dentistry. I have, therefore, resigned myself to suffering from dental pain until my cold goes away. In the meantime, I feel like crap.