It's "Hmm, according to this new X-ray, you need TWO root canals."
And, to my dismay, since the new offender was the upper tooth right over the known one, I have to either fix both, or pull both, since a far back molar without its counterpart is basically just a waste of jaw space.
Fortunately, following a panicked cellphone call, my father came through in fine style. Let the record also show that he has dibs on my organs. So I got the first root canal--er--dug? tunnelled? canalled?
And, just to reassure people who may be dragging their feet on the way to the dentist--didn't hurt at all. The Novocaine shot is always miserable, of course, but he pumped two syringes worth into my jaw, and I didn't feel a thing. Come to that, I still don't. Brain central only regained radio contact with my left nostril a few minutes ago. And I have Vicodin.