getting old: grab the smelling salts, mamma's got a cracked tooth

Ok, it's official, no denying it now, I am OLD.
Back around Christmastime I noticed that one of my molars hurt occasionally when I would chew on something hard. It wouldn't be every time I ate, but when I bit down "the wrong way" I had a mouthful of pain. It eventually got better-ish and I figured I'd wait until my next dental appointment to have it diagnosed.
Yesterday was said appointment.
The diagnosis: Cracked tooth syndrome
The treatment:
First step: crown
Second step (if crown doesn't repair the problem): root canal
Final step (Can you hear "Taps" in the background, too?): removal of tooth and either an implant or a bridge.

I can't even go to Google and look this stuff up without getting a cold, clammy feeling. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel like passing out.
Quick, somebody get the "vaypahs".
I know you may think I am being a "bit-fat-baby-head" about it all. But you don't understand. My smile is all I've got. I used to awake in a puddle of sweat after having had a nightmare about my teeth falling out.
Thankfully, I have the world's sweetest dentist and I do feel as though I am in very good hands. I won't think about the fact that he was probably born when I was graduating high school.

Next up:
getting old part two: why do I now have whiskers?
getting old part three: Depends or those blue pads
getting old part three: how to choose a burial plot