When you psychiatric yourself up for your very first root canal, clear the calendar, prepare for the worst, and find yourself in the endodontist's chair with a mouthful of equipment, it's unnerving to hear, "Lateral ... Nerve ... fill it back up." And then everything is taken out of your mouth and the dr leaves the room. All within five minutes. The assistant then fills the tooth. No needle to be seen. End of procedure. Then, "The crack goes all the way to the root. We can't save it. It will have to be extracted." I dropped off the referral at a surgeon's office. Same surgeon who worked on Cousin P. The receptionist okayed my insurance and asked if I wanted an implant. Uhhh ... I don't know. I'll be happy with-a two-pump soy chai from Starbucks and a nap. I've got a consultation in a week.