I lost a tooth last night. It was the stuff of common nightmares—I'm just sitting there, eating a relatively soft dinner (reheated BBQ pulled chicken), and all of a sudden, I spit my tooth into my palm. I turn to Pam in horror: "Is this a dream?" She assured me it was not. My tooth had fallen out for no reason other than life is weird and cruel.
I'm exaggerating for effect. It really was a tooth, but it was also a tooth that had been placed there maybe six years ago as part of a root canal procedure. So it was always fated to fall out, it was just a matter of when.
Still, not only am I faced with the prospect of another root canal, but I am also forced to face a hard truth about this summer: literally everything that happens to me between Memorial Day 2022 and Labor Day 2022 is going to be viewed through the lens of "Grannies Gone Wild." What this missing tooth says about me is that I have a shitty oral health history. What this missing tooth says about Reba is that Brock wins. I need to find a dentist to help people, and specifically a person, me, with the big hole in his gum.
Brock is right... for now. Because the other part of the equation is that dentists also are making a lot money. That's an undeniable fact. The question is whose money they are taking. What will my insurance cover? Getting another root canal will definitely "help" me, but if they are taking too much from my wallet, then I'd be more inclined to think it's "just about making money."
Let's see what United Concordia has to say about the matter. In the meantime, here's Van in the waiting room, greedily counting the cash, dead set on escaping his mother-in-law's house no matter the emotional toll it's taking on his dentist wife.
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