I went to the dentist the other day to have some work done
on one of my molars. I don't mind. I have been known to doze off in the dentist
chair.
This dozing off thing is a relatively new phenomenon for
someone who has endured what can only be described as torturous hours at the
hands of Tooth Doctors. I have had
endodontic work for an infected root canal (that eventually failed and the post
came out), several teeth pulled as a result of having a butcher for a dentist
and parents who didn't really give a shit if I brushed or didn't, and I had two
impacted lower wisdom teeth removed along with parts of my jaw bone in a brief
afternoon session in the chair because my insurance wouldn't cover it but it
had to be done. I also had a dentist
over-nitrous me once, and I woke up gasping for air after his machine (and his
mistake) rendered me unconscious.
It is a direct result of the dental work I had as a child
that I have a rather high tolerance for pain.
I've had a few teeth filled without novocaine, some work done with
nitrous oxide, and some done on pure bullet-clenching. Did I mention that I knocked out both my
front teeth when I thought I was a ballerina?
That was a bloody frigging mess. Another
time I had a tooth pulled and the open socket wouldn't stop bleeding. I had to go back two hours later and have my
jawbone held together with pliers until the bleeding stemmed.
Good times, good times.
Nowadays the block is so efficient that it seeps through the
bone and into the nerve. Maybe the doc
was just telling me a story about this new novocaine, but I felt a
difference. Even if he used the regular
old stuff, I would find going to the dentist to be relaxing. Nothing can be much worse (okay, it can be
much worse, but work with me here) than what I've already gone through with my
teeth, and it's an entire hour when nobody can bother me. Put those together, add in a pair of
anti-splatter glasses with some office music, and I'm out like a broken light.
I am not yet ready to answer "Dentist chair" to
the question "Favorite vacation destination," but at least for a
while my teeth and I have gotten along fairly well.
Which leads me to the age-old conundrum: Why does the dentist ask me questions while
he's drilling my teeth if there's too much metal in my mouth to answer
him? Oh.
I get it. Sneaky bastard. Never mind, then.
Going to brush my teeth now.
