Leslie’s Evil Twin, here. As soon as she went outside to continue her ongoing battle with the buckthorn trees in her back yard, I decided to appoint myself her guest blogger, and ran off with her computer to write from a secure, undisclosed location. I also posted the video above for your enjoyment.
Leslie has been told she’s too nice, and I quite agree. I’m taking over today because everything isn’t always rainbows, unicorns, and puppies, like she seems to think.
For instance, Leslie had been going back and forth to see her beloved dentist (I’m not a fan) for several months because of pain in one tooth. After x-rays and much probing, he found nothing wrong and just kept adjusting her bite with a power-sander.
This fuster-clucking went on way too long, in my opinion, but I’m evil and have no patience.
Recently, Leslie had an appointment for a routine teeth cleaning. Since that tooth still hurt, her dentist took x-rays and said, “That tooth needs a root canal.”
Leslie sat in disbelief. I almost punched that dentist in the teeth.
She was sent to an endodontist that same day. The endo found a 10 mm pocket in Leslie’s gum next to the bad tooth, and an x-ray revealed an abscess and raging infection. Leslie was told to take antibiotics for a week and then come back for the root canal. Oh, and the endo also told her the tooth might be fractured, in which case it would need to be pulled.
At this point, and I give her credit for this, Leslie e mailed her beloved dentist to ask him why she couldn’t just have the tooth pulled if it might be fractured anyway.
He urged her to follow the endo’s recommendations. Me? I would have staged a sit-in at the oral surgeon’s office until he knocked me out and yanked it. But, Leslie? She does what she’s told. What a wuss.
A week later, Leslie showed up for the root canal.The endo told her she would look for a fracture with a microscope, and if it wasn’t cracked she’d commit full-fledged root canal. If the tooth was cracked, she’d send Leslie to the oral surgeon so he could remove the tooth.
Leslie’s tooth had three canals. Most teeth have two. But, if you know Leslie, the exception to the rule is her “normal.” She’s working on a book called Defective: Memoirs of a Medical Mutant because she was born with one of these and two of those. Luckily, most of the mutations took place on the inside. I would have liked it if she had two noses, or three ears, but I wasn’t allowed any say in her biological makeup.
Figuring the procedure was about to begin, Leslie closed her eyes and waited for instructions. When none were given, she opened her eyes, and like a scene from a scary movie, saw the masked endo standing over her, holding a needle the size of a Sailfish spear attached to a vat of Novocaine.
At this point, Leslie finally grew a pair and said, in the nicest possible way, “Excuse me, but would mind telling me what you’re going to do before you do it?”
“I don’t talk while I’m working,” the endo said. Leslie shot the endo’s assistant a look of fear and nausea. The assistant said, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Two hours, and another shot of Novocaine later, the endo removed all the hardware covering Leslie’s face and put her seat back to it’s full, upright position.
“The tooth is dead,” the endo began. I laughed. She continued, ”I’ve rooted the canals and filled them. Keep taking the antibiotics four times a day, and don’t chew on that side for the next four weeks in case there’s a fracture.”
Did someone say fracture?
Leslie managed to squeak out, “I thought you said the tooth wasn’t cracked!”
The endo said, “I said I didn’t SEE a crack.”
Can we back up here for a second? If Leslie had known the now root-canaled tooth in question was at risk of imploding in her mouth at any moment, she would have been been helioported to her oral surgeon’s office to have it yanked.
If she ends up needing to have the tooth extracted, Leslie’s going to have to fork over big bucks to the endo, AND pay the oral surgeon to remove said dead tooth.
Since there nothing she could do about the situation and her face was still numb, Leslie went to the grocery store and bought anything she could slurp, sip, swallow, or boat-motor with her nifty hand-held blender doo-hicky, for the next few weeks. Aside from the occasional drool hanging off the side of her mouth, she looked pretty normal – – for her.
Later, when the anesthetic wore off, Leslie was only able to open her mouth about as well as if I had Gorilla-taped it shut. She’s been sticking to her baby food diet, but the tooth still bothers her. I think the tooth will need to be pulled. And I think that’s hilarious.
Disclaimer: “Tarzan Boy” is the legal property of the New Wave Italian band Baltimora, comprised of Jimmy McShane, Maurizio Bassi, Giorgio Cocilovo, Claudio Bazzari, Pier Michelatti, and Gabriele Melotti. lesliejochase.com claims no rights to the song whatsoever.
Video produced by Lucas Korengold