Friday, September 25, 2009

The Dentist (or, Other Visions of Hell)

Today I went to the dentist. Dental visits are right up there on my list of Things to be Afraid Of (along with spiders, bees, heights, and creepy vegetable innards - it's a long list). It's funny (irony funny, not really ha-ha funny) because people will say "what have you ACTUALLY had done in your mouth?" First off, that lends itself to about a baZILLION off color retorts, I'll let you improvise some, feeling better?

Second, um not much. I had my wisdom teeth removed in a haze of nitrous oxide and Dark Side of the Moon - so basically whenever I hear 'Vera' (thankfully not often) I'll have flashbacks of my own teeth being chiseled out of my face. I was awake for said horrific procdure, and would rather expel about 21 more kids from my lady region than ever, EVER relive that nightmare. I digress.

I know a lot of you out there have had 245 fillings, all without any sort of pain killer and you're all super tough badasses who are probably marines or something. You also probably bare-fist cage-fight samurai ninjas. It's at this point I should tell you I'm a lover, not a fighter - except I'm really not, I'm a verbal fighter, that's fo's sho' but I don't, as the kids say, throw down. Physical badass, not so much. Thus, I cannot even get my teeth de-plaqued (see also: that horrible metal scrape-y thing) without flinching and trying to remember how to *focusonmybreathing* which wasn't that helpful for my labor for that matter, but I keep trying.

Shockingly I know, unlike in child delivery, there is no Magic Man (insert Heart vocals here) - or woman - with a nice epidural to take the pain away. No, instead I got the World's Most Detail-Oriented Hygenist. She tried, guys, she really did. She dipped her scrapey-thing in numb-y stuff, but my gums still bled enough that I thought at any minute someone would shout "We got a major hemorrhage, give me an IV drip, stat!" No one did, although it might have alleviated my attempts to *focusonmybreathing* which was impossible anyway, since my shoulders were hunched up into my ears and I was hyperventilating and alternately drowning in my own spit.

I should mention that my experience with Weird Dental Stuff goes back a looooong way. When I was a kid my parents took me to a dentist who was eleventy-thousand if he were a day, and really crotchety. He once told me "if saliva were worth anything, kid you'd be rich!" This was disconcerting, I think you'll agree, in a lot of ways. I was probably about 7 at the time, so thinking, hmmmm, rich on my own spit, that's.... interesting, and given that I get money for teeth that fall out.....woo! Career option!

Then the whole wisdom tooth removal..... *shudder* the horror, the horror. Seriously, who (besides me) is AWAKE during that procedure, and listening to Dark Side of the Moon??? I thought so. Just me. I didn't go to an oral surgeon either - although by then the octogenarian crank-dentist had died and gone to that great dentistry in the sky, so this was a different dentist. I said a dentist. Who removed my wisdom teeth. Think about it. Yeahhhhh. He did just two at a time because they were so far into my jaw they required a jackhammer to get them out. *shudder* Let's move on.

Yesterday was a regular exam with a new dentist - who is, I should mention, manically cheerful. I am pretty sure she'd tell you that your teeth are awesome, or that your teeth are horribly diseased and you need an EXTRACTION in the same happy-happy voice. By the way, extraction is the scariest thing I can think of, hence the caps.

So she checked me out and found something, possibly something anyway, that would break a 30 year awesome life lottery streak - a cavity. I know, it's no big deal! You have 427 cavities and you laugh at fillings, hell, you get fillings while you're kung fu fighting armed assassins! I don't. She started talking about filing, and needles and burning sensations.... aaaaand I woke up on the floor. Threw up in my mouth a bit. Burning? Needles? OH SWEET GOD!

Apparently sensing my apprehension with the trained skill of years of dentistry (or the fact that I peed all over her exam chair. No. Not really.) she said in her happy-love voice, "I can write you a script for some valium!" Yes. Yes, you can.

My husband (filling loving ninja fighter!) said it's no big deal.

You're driving me there Captain America. Mommy's on valium.

Comments, questions, your personal dental love?

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