The Olive Had a Stone

An unexpected crunch

The label said pitted. I had trusted it enough to eat an olive while standing at the counter, reading a message from my sister. There was a crunch with the wrong kind of sound, and then my tongue found an edge it did not recognize.

I put the bowl down. My sister's message was about parking. I replied with a photograph of the olive stone, which was not helpful to either of us. Then I noticed a small pale piece on the plate.

No kitchen repairs

The Ontario Dental Association advises contacting a dentist promptly after a broken tooth and bringing any fragment you find. I put the piece in a clean container and called, describing what had happened and whether there was pain or bleeding.^[1]

It was Saturday. I listened to the whole voicemail message instead of hanging up at "closed," then followed the after-hours information. I wanted someone to tell me where to be assessed, not an internet vote on how big the chip looked.

I left the tooth alone. No nail file, no cupboard glue, no repeated biting to see whether it still felt strange. I wrote down the time it happened because I knew I would forget while explaining the olive.

Lunch could wait

My sister rang back. "Did you mean to send me that?" I explained. She offered to help with the trip if I needed one. The bowl was still on the counter, beside the unopened bread. I moved the stone out of the way and kept the phone nearby.