Friday afternoon I’m happily sucking on a green sucker, diligently working. The sucker taunted me with its crunchy goodness, so I caved and bit into it. Apparently the sucker was the Chuck Norris of suckers, as it chipped my back molar. About half of it was gone. At first I was mildly alarmed, then reality sent in… I would have to go to the dentist. My internal alarm went RED.. DANGER DANGER!
If you are a family member or child do not read this part… though it could be a PSA.
I have a fear of the dentist. This started when I was in high school. One day, after getting high with some friends, I came home to my mom telling me I had a dentist appointment to get a cavity filled. For apparent reasons I couldn’t tell my mom I was too high to go to the dentist, so off we went. Now I had never experienced paranoia when high, but things were soon to change. I sat in the dentist chair ready for my filling. Once the drill started I realized this was a BAD DECISION. I don’t recall much about the specifics, but this I know, I was certain the dentist was trying to kill me. It was going to be a slow and painful death; there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was trapped in that dentist chair. I do not recall the specifics of how I escaped my demise, but this I know, ever since I have severe anxiety about going back to the dentist. (Moral of the story: Don’t do drugs)
So here I am 33 years old with a chipped tooth, the thought of going in to the dentist makes me want to wet myself, but having known severe dental pain, I know I there is no way I cannot go. So I start calling dentists. For reasons I do not completely understand, no dentist offices were open on Friday afternoons. So I make a 9 am appointment for Monday
Monday comes with minimal pain. Off to the dentist I go. I resist the urge to drive into oncoming traffic to delay the inevitable. Things are going well; new dentist is very nice, dental assistance is nice. Office is soothing, yet I can feel the mind numbing terror swimming through my veins. I’m not sure what they said, the words root canal, pulling and deep drilling were all involved, when they came to talk to me about cost I was numb with terror, so they just sucked me into agreeing to pay. I sat in the chair, trying desperately to crank my iPod loud enough to no longer hear the drill. Instead I got a mix of Nervous but Exicted with drill as background music, not the best combination. With all the technology that exists why are they not able to make dental instruments not sound like weapons of torture? Also, I have a theory that those that chose the dental profession were Spanish Inquisitors in past lives.
I managed to not make a fool of myself, generally speaking, no crying or screaming or running out. The point that really tested me is when they were creating the molding. I had to bite down on the foamy cement stuff (sorry if I confuse anyone with the technical terms) I started drooling, of course I didn’t really notice since my mouth was numb. I noticed it when I drooled on my bib. The dental assistant kindly offered to lean me back so that I wouldn’t drool on myself. This seemed like a great idea, till I realized I couldn’t properly swallow due to an inability to close my mouth. Also, based on taste I was slowly drowning in my own blood and saliva. Finally the dental assistant removed the template and suctioned out my mouth. Stuffed it with gauze, as they told me that I might have some bleeding due to my gum being torn up while they were drilling, apparently my gums are exceptionally close to my teeth (are they not suppose to be?)
I leave the dentist and stop at the gas station before going home to be drugged. While trying to talk to the clerk I drool a little blood out. I’m sure he will still respect me in the morning.
