Post-Traumatic Dental Disorder

My family visited my sister’s family last weekend. The ten of us are eating dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant in Manhattan.

After I finish my supper I feel a tiny tooth in the area where I had two teeth extracted about three weeks ago. 

My nephew is discussing the latest Coen brother movie he just saw and loved.

My sister says she thinks the Coen brothers are weird.

I say at a post several glasses of wine volume, “I’ll tell you what’s weird. There’s a tiny tooth jutting out of my gums where I had two teeth extracted.”

The majority response is “Ewww.”

I’ve got my finger in my mouth obsessed with the tiny tooth that has suddenly appeared. 

A few minutes later my sister, who is sitting at the opposite end of the table says at a mucho vino volume, “Says here bone fragments can surface after an extraction. It should resolve itself but if not go see your dentist.”

The diners nearby hate us.

My son says, “Let me see Mom.”

I open my mouth while he shines his phone flashlight into my mouth. The entire restaurant is staring at us.

We didn’t order dessert. We ordered a quick getaway.

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