When you break a tooth that you’ve already had a root canal on, you root for your dentist to get to the root of the problem.

That’s what Dr. Anthony Fazio did on one of my molars, which he expertly repaired during a two-part procedure that was, I am happy to report, painless.

As Dr. Fazio said, “I didn’t feel a thing.”

The dental dilemma began while I was eating a bowl of soggy breakfast cereal. It’s a good thing I wasn’t gnawing on a steak bone or a piece of peanut brittle, which might have shattered the tooth and sent shards down my windpipe.

Then the choke would have been on me.

But I noticed that a small piece of my left bottom rear molar — Tooth No. 18, if you are scoring at home — had broken off.

It’s the same tooth I had an emergency root canal on a year and a half ago while visiting my older daughter and her family, who live 300 miles away.

I called Dr. Fazio and made an appointment with office manager Lisa Rugen, who also is a dental assistant.

A week later, Dr. Fazio peered into my mouth and said, “You have some nerve. Fortunately,” he added, “the nerve was removed when you had the root canal, so this won’t hurt a bit.”

Then he went to work, pulling off the broken crown and putting a band on my tooth.

“I’m sorry it’s not a band of gold,” the good doctor said, reminding me of Freda Payne’s 1970 pop hit, which began playing in my head. “It’s more like a ring around the molar.”

Then he stuffed cotton in my cheek, making me feel like Marlon Brando in “The Godfather,” and applied a resin-modified glass ionomer, a substance a lot like spackle, only not as tasty.

“You’re starting to drool,” the dentist pointed out.

“There’s no drool like an old drool,” I said as Lisa suctioned out the streaming saliva.

“You have a choice for your new crown — porcelain or metal,” Dr. Fazio said.

“If I pick metal, could I be hit by lightning?” I asked.

“It would be shocking if that happened,” he replied.

Porcelain, Dr. Fazio said, is sturdy but could break, like my old crown, which was made in a dentist’s office the day after my root canal and may not have been properly finished.

“Whatever kind you choose will be made in a lab,” he said.

“Which one?” I wondered.

“Dr. Frankenstein’s House of Horrors,” Dr. Fazio deadpanned.

“I’ll take metal so I can show my mettle,” I said.

“It won’t show because it will be in the back of your mouth,” said the doctor, who had applied a temporary crown to hold me over until my next appointment.

Two weeks later, I was ready for round two.

“You know the drill,” Dr. Fazio said.

I nodded and opened wide.

He didn’t need a drill but instead used a diamond bur to smooth out my molar after applying a viscous liquid called polyvinyl siloxane, or PVS, to make what I must say was a very good impression.

“You burned through two burs last time,” he said.

“I guess diamonds aren’t a boy’s best friend,” I noted.

Dr. Fazio described PVS as “very expensive Play-Doh.”

“Plato is my favorite Greek philosopher,” I said.

“He molded me into the man I am today,” said Dr. Fazio, who let me watch "The Three Stooges" while the PVS dried.

“This isn’t the one where they’re dentists, is it?” I asked nervously.

“No,” he replied. “This time, they’re plumbers.”

At my last appointment, after the new metal crown came back from the lab, Dr. Fazio put it on my molar.

The crown fit perfectly and felt good.

“And it won’t break,” he promised.

“Great job,” I said. “It’s a crowning achievement.”

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