A trip to the dentist

After several years of avoiding the issue, yesterday I finally had my bridge replaced. It wasn't as bad as I had feared, but it wasn't any picnic either.
When I was 22 my Mother nagged and nagged until I agreed to replace a false tooth with a permanent bridge. I didn't have any problems with the false tooth (it was on sort of a retainer and came in and out easily). But Mom bullied me into the bridge.
My mistake, was that when they said permanent, I thought they meant it! But, no, permanent only meant it doesn't come out. They expect you to put a new one in every so often! It was such an unpleasant procedure, I was not going to rush out and change it on a regular basis if I wasn't having any problems with it (I mean, that's how I got into this viscious cycle in the first place, wasn't it?)
Come to find out, most dentists think that 10 years is a good long life for a bridge. I disagreed most heartily and continued on happily with my bridge for over 20 years, but then something dreadful happened: My husband became friends with our dentist and found out the awful truth about my bridge! It was old and needed to be replaced before it fell out! (I say, what's wrong with letting it fall out on it's own? Then we could all agree it needed replacing!!). I managed to evade the issue for another 3 years, but finally, yesterday, they yanked that baby out. Sure, I took all the medication they would given me and that dulled the physical pain, but it does nothing to dissipate the mental anguish that seems to go on permanently!
With any luck at all I'll keep this one at least 30 years. I'll just have to switch dentists. Or husbands!