Thursday, October 26, 2006

Dental Nightmare



You want to talk about a Halloween horror movie--just looking at these gives me the shakes. They make me want to clutch my wallet, given the vast amount of money I have spent on my teeth. Probably the entire Halloween season here at CFTE should be presented through the lens of dentistry and/or endodontistry (root canal). I am such an expert on the latter, I could actually perform one myself. I know about the prober, the 22 file (I don't know if that is 22 millimeters or 22 caliber as in bullets, but that's the size they always ask for on me--I like to think my canals are longer than other people's), the little bits of paper they put in at the end--yeah, paper. Who knew? Maybe they're sequestering years of evidence of extra-marital affairs at the root canal office---in my mouth!!!! Not to worry, it will all go with me to my grave.

I had my first surgical above-the-gum root canal a couple of months ago. "You'll feel some pressure," the endodontist said just before prying the area open with a farm implement and pushing down with all her might onto my upper jaw. If you were imprisoned in a cell somewhere and had one chance to get out by pushing down really hard, that's how hard she was pushing. A lot more than kneading bread. Bread? You'd pray for bread.

I was six when I had my first cavity. My mother sat and waited for me in the antechamber of Dr. Smith, our family dentist. He was a sadist. He hated children and I'm proud to say I gave him even more reason to.

"Go ahead and spit that out," he said to me after all the drilling was over and tears were running down my face. I knew I was wearing that white cloth around the front of me for a reason. I wasn't as dumb then as I am now.

He never said anything about a sink.

I was obedient above all things. I spit all over him--blood, metal filings, saliva, everything that was in my mouth, all over his glasses, his face, and his fussy little zip-up blouson.

"NOT ON ME, IN THE BOWL!" he yelled and my mother said she and a man in the waiting room almost died laughing. Why? Because everybody hated Dr. Smith. I think my mother enjoyed bringing me there.

Despite brushing my teeth religiously, it was all downhill from there.

What hurts your teeth more, chocolate or hard candy?

You don't think I know, do you?

Which will rot your teeth faster, Milk Duds or Snickers?

Again, je ne sais pas.

Give me the 22 prober, please.

A bientot
love,becky

2 Comments:

At 10:27 PM , Blogger sandman1 said...

Heh heh, served him right! You should tell that story to your endodontist next time, to discourage the pre-flight, um, understatements...

 
At 6:47 AM , Blogger Becky said...

You're right, I should tell that story to ALL my dental care professionals. Thank SM.
b

 

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