Written April 16, 2025
Hello, Dear Readers,
I had a dentist appointment yesterday — and let’s just say, I left with more existential dread than dental floss.
Apparently, one of my teeth is being resorbed. That’s right — my body has decided to eat its own tooth. No external villain, no cavity creeping in from the shadows. Just my own biology going, “You know what? Let’s dissolve that one.”
Naturally, I asked if I did something wrong. Too many sour candies? Brushed with existential angst instead of toothpaste? But no — my dentist assured me it’s idiopathic, which is medical-speak for, “We have no clue why this is happening.” Somehow, that’s both comforting and unsettling. Like, hooray, it’s not my fault! But also… why is my body betraying me like this?
So I did what any responsible adult does when faced with vague medical doom: I Googled it. Turns out, internal tooth resorption isn’t as rare as I thought. The dentin and pulp inside the tooth can just break down from within. Sometimes it stops on its own, sometimes it needs a root canal, and sometimes your tooth just… retires early.
The causes? Oh, pick your poison: past trauma, chronic inflammation, overzealous orthodontic adventures, certain medications, radiation therapy, or simply a bad roll of the genetic dice. My wife chimed in to say that sharks don’t have this problem — they just shed and regrow teeth like it’s no big deal. Of course, if we had that system, I imagine our grocery bills would skyrocket (to say nothing of the constant dental redecorating).
The kicker? This whole stealth operation happened between my last dental visit and now. No pain, no warning — just a rogue tooth slowly dissolving in silence. My wife’s on high alert now, mostly because dental issues can complicate things like implants, and with my kidneys being only mildly dramatic, we try to stay ahead of problems.
In a weird way, I’m relieved I didn’t cause it. I’ve been a reasonably well-behaved brusher. But knowing that resorption can strike again at any time, without rhyme or reason? That’s… well, tooth terrorism.
Anyway, the plan is a root canal. They’ll clean out the inside, seal it up, and send the tooth back into retirement with a gold watch and a filling. It’s my first root canal, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Everyone says, “It’s not that bad,” which is exactly what people say about things that are, in fact, a little bad.
To end on a surreal note, my wife once told me about a cat that was allergic to cats. And now, here I am — a human allergic to my own tooth, apparently. Life is strange, bodies are weird, and dentistry remains the only profession where people actively fear chairs.
Wish me luck — and may your molars remain loyal.