everyone loves an implant

Yesterday, someone drilled a screw into my jaw. Despite all the Novocain, I felt the threads working their way into the bone. The sound of it didn’t help. Or the way the doctor’s hands shook from the exertion of his whole-body effort to jam the thing into my head, then the screw went in too far and—CAN FEEL THAT!—pushed up against the sinus wall. Do over.

I am one step closer to replacing a baby tooth—a tooth that went way, way, way beyond expectations. In nine months, hopefully, after this screw has fused with my bone, I may—just maybe!—get myself a new tooth. Sure, people grow entire human beings in that time, but what’s the rush? They sure don't make them like they used to.