Two years ago, I heard news that changed my life for the better. At the dentist, I was informed that I have a dead tooth, one of my front ones.
The nerve's retracted and discolored to a brownish-yellow. I did not know this; I know when it happened. I face planted while ice skating on a second date with a girl named Heather. I got up, and my tooth was on the ice in a pool of blood.
Punchline: I wasn't supposed to be out; my father was out of town.
So I'm strapped down in an ambulance with a whole bunch of neck stabilization stuff, and then dropped off at a dentist. Nobody ever looks at my neck. "Let's make sure you don't move your neck too much until we get you into a dentist's chair." They then charge my father $100 for said "service", in addition to the remainder of the ambulance bill.
The dentist shoved the tooth back in and wired me up, and tells me it's probably going to fall right out in 3 months. I was pretty sure it wouldn't because when I was eight, my brother and I were playing catch and I caught a ball with my mouth. It knocked the same tooth out for the first time. It had been an adult tooth for all of 2 years.
They stitched it up that time and bam, it regenerated like a troll.
So I figured 8 years later that guy probably wanted to jump out and look around for a couple of hours.
Frankly, I'm thrilled the tooth isn't BLACK.
But I wish it had turned gray; I knew teeth could turn gray. I didn't know they could turn a color approximating plaque. That's why the news is so freeing; I've thought I was horrible at brushing my teeth for YEARS.
It really fucks with you. Whenever you approach a task, this seed of doubt is in you saying, "man you don't even have tooth brushing down yet, how are you going to master Python?"
So when I found out that the yellow front tooth was Totally Not My Fault? Freedom! I am good at personal hygiene!
The dentist followed up with something about not flossing and gum disease but I assume it wasn't that important.