Friday, August 31, 2012

existential thoughts and dentistry

1 comment:
Had a root canal yesterday. It won't be on the highlight reel at my memorial, should I ever die. Not that I'm planning on dying. I'm gonna live forever.

I think, if I ever become a dentist, I will do things differently. I am not thinking of becoming a dentist, because mouths are gross, and also I don't want to go to college, I like it here on my couch with my children. But IF I were to become a dentist, I would never prop someone's mouth open with foam versions of cinder blocks and then ask them questions. Just practically thinking here, they do this stuff all day long; haven't they noticed that we can't talk right?

Dentist: "How are you doing? Still numb?"
Me: alarmed eyes "IBE CHOKING ON BIT"
Dentist: "Good, good."

I try to talk myself out of panicking. I'm a grown woman, I think. I can sit here and I will not choke and die on the saliva pooling in the back of my OH MY GAWD I AM GOING TO CHOKE I CAN'T SWALLOW I CAN'T SWALLOW I'M.... oh. I'm okay. Huh.

Dentist:  "We're just going to drill out the center of your tooth here, it shouldn't hurt, but if it does, let me know."
(Me, inside my mind "How will I let him know? I am laying on my back choking to death on spit while you and your chatty assistant have 5 tools holding down my tongue and something that smells like burning I'M GOING TO DIE." 
My brain counters, "Be logical, Jessica. No one has ever accidentally swallowed the gauze and had to be transported by ambulance and get an emergency tracheotomy. These people are professionals and they know how to secure the gauze just close enough to your tonsils that you won't choke."
My mind, "I bet, if I could reach my phone from here, I could google and find more than one person who choked on the gauze. I bet I could find a malpractice suit for this exact doctor, or at least a bad Yelp review.")
Me: "AHGAY."

BEEEEIZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTT the drill says, and is that a nerve? Did I feel that a tiny bit? Am I going to feel it a LOT in a minute? Should I raise my hand? What is happening?

Dentist: "We're about done. Just a few more hours of chipping away at your enamel and your soul. Now I'm going to leave you here for a minute and let you dry out so we can put some sharp stuff in your mouth and maybe some kind of laser beam gun thing. You need anything?"
Dentist: "Okay, great. We'll be back momentarily and wrap up here and crush your dreams."

An hour goes by, a day. My mouth is pried open like a horrific silent scream, and I am starting to feel my gums again. Is the Novocaine wearing off? What the heck kind of little sharp needle-y things did they put in my tooth crater? And why? And the saliva, it's collecting again, I can't... I can't swallow right I CAN'T SWALLOW RIGHT AND THEY'RE ALL GONE, HAVING CAKE IN THE BREAK ROOM OR SOMETHING I AM ALL ALONE HERE AND I MIGHT SWALLOW THE GAUZE OR GAG OR PANIC AND BITE DOWN ON THE NEEDLE-Y THINGS. I am praying, praying, staring deep into the picture of the hammock on the wall, "Imagine I'm on the hammock," I think. "Zen. Be Zen. I wonder if there's a Christian version of being Zen. Oh Jesus, help me be Zen. Think about my fingernails, my fingernails instead of my mouth. How long has it been? Did they forget me? THEY FORGOT ME AND I AM ALL ALONE."

Dentist: "Okay, we'll finish up here and get you home. How you holding up?"
Dentist, chuckling, "Well, let's drill some more stuff and simultaneously spray water down your throat and vacuum and talk vacations. You ever been to Hawaii?"

Eventually, it's over. I came home with a temporary crown and maybe PTSD.

1 comment:

  1. I laughed so hard I cried. Sorry for your misery, but so glad you shared!


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