A dark spot on the xray. First thing Monday morning. That's the bad news.
The good news -- how quickly these things become relative! -- is that a root canal or two should do the trick.
I am so proud of myself that I felt something "off" in my body and actually MADE THE APPROPRIATE APPOINTMENT. This is a significant step forward for me, as my tendency is towards the "ignore it and hope it goes away" school of medical strategy.
The theory is that my two bottom front teeth, which bravely bore the brunt of the not-so-Benevolent Street impact all those years ago, have finally decided that they have had it. Or at least the nerves may have decided that feeling is overrated.
Decades of no trouble at all have given way, in my case, to some shot nerves. I'm sure there's a lesson in here somewhere.
How much will you pay me, squeamish reader, NOT to post the blow-by-blow here sometime next week? Stay tuned or avoid this site like the plague, depending on your tolerance for the imagined sound of a whirring drill...