#311 Go to the Dentist
I used to never be afraid of the dentist. Even when I was kid and had four cavities filled. Why? A little thing our dentist liked to call sweet air. Sure, some dentists may legally have to call it nitrous oxide. All I knew was it made me feel like I was in a dream and it didn’t make getting mercury poured into a gaping hole in one of my teeth seem so bad.
When I was 23, a dentist noticed that my wisdom teeth had partially erupted. This was not news to me. In fact I had known this for years given that I saw the inside of my mouth every day. I wasn’t in pain and they didn’t bother me in any way. But somehow my dentist convinced me they needed to come out.
Since they were partially erupted, I did not have to be put under. When I asked where the sweet air was, the dentist looked at me like I was crazy. When I said nitrous oxide, he still looked at me like I was crazy. “We have Novocain,” he explained. Fine. Just shoot me full of the good stuff.
They did. Unfortunately, not enough. When the dentist cracked the first tooth loose from my jaw, I grabbed both armrests, arched my back in pain and groaned. “Oh you feel that huh?” But he kept going.
Turns out he couldn’t get a good grip on one of the teeth so they had to drill it out of my head. DRILL IT OUT OF MY HEAD PEOPLE. Then there was a lot of yanking and pulling with pliers. Pulling out fragments of tooth from my jaw as my Novocain continued to wear off. I was completely traumatized after that Marathon Man like experience.
It took me awhile to go back to the dentist but I still don’t like it. I have good dental hygiene so I can get away with going once a year or even once every few years. Last time I went was about a year ago. The dentist filled a little cavity. It was so little, he said he could drill it out without Novocain. For some reason I agreed to that. But to his credit, I didn’t really feel any pain.
Last week I decided I had been putting it off for too long and made an appointment to go in today.
I secretly believe my dentist moonlights as a Russian Mafia doctor, patching up thugs from botched hit attempts. My evidence for this? The fact that he’s Russian and has weird old Russian men as patients. And me.
First they took some X-Rays and then polished my teeth.
The thing I hate the most is the scaler. The scaler is that tool that sounds like how you’d imagine a dog whistle to sound if you were a dog. I have sensitive teeth and that thing can send pain straight into my brain nerves or whatever.
For the most part, it went ok. There were a couple of times that had me moan in pain.
Finally, it was over. Now I have clean pearly whites and I can put off going to the dentist for another year.
