My Root Canal

I wanted the subject of this blog to be about my writing critique partner, David Beem, but I'm having technical difficulties--the picture I have of him and his family won't post. So I've decided to write about my recent trips to the dentist instead.

What pops into your head when you hear the word DENTIST?   The images in my mind flash about as though in a panic when I hear the word spoken.  It's hard to say what I think of first, but I do imagine gloved hands holding silver instruments, face masks, a loud drilling noise and a square light-- not the sort of light you feel like moving toward, but a light with a plastic shield full of finger prints. Those thoughts are the reason I delay going to the dentist. 

 My tooth started aching in early May.  I ignored it, but it wouldn't go away.  Advil helped.  After a week of wishing it would just take care of itself, I gave up and went to the dentist -- Advil was a good friend of mine by then and the relationship was growing stronger.  What the dentist told me was my back molar had a crack and if I didn't have a root canal, it would be like a rock hitting a windshield- the crack would spread and pretty much kill me (not literally)-- fill me with agony and then break apart.  Ahh- the joys of aging...

My root canal was done at a place in Evansville that specializes in that sort of thing.  The professionals reassured me there would be no pain.  They were honest about that.  My whole head felt numb when they were finished injecting me with Novocaine--"time for a school picture!"  Just kidding. ( When my face is sagging and I'm drooling that's usually when a photographer shows up. If you saw my school pictures, you'd believe me.)  What I found out was, although there was no pain, my mouth had to be held open with special instruments.  It was stretched as wide as it could be and then the Dr. asked me periodically if I could open my mouth wider. That was insane!  But, being the good patient that I am, I tried.

  Before he started, I was handed safety glasses. That was a little unsettling. 

Can you just imagine what they saw when they looked at me sitting in that chair?  I'm pretty sure it was scary. 

The assistant told me to raise my arm if I needed them to stop for any reason at all.  I wondered how fast they could get that mouth brace of me, but I figured there was no need to worry because people have root canals all the time and I've never heard anything outrageous about the procedure.  However,  I did raise my hand after awhile because I had this little problem of feeling like I was going to suffocate, I only gagged.  The Dentist said, "Oh that's just your saliva collecting in the back of your throat.  Just ignore it."  Could I argue? No.  He began to drill and my leg started shaking --totally out of control.  There was nothing I could do about it because it's a side effect of a medication I'm on.  I saw the assistant look from my mouth to my leg several times.  I knew it was annoying her.  What could I say?  Finally she said very nicely, "Would you please stop shaking your leg, it makes it shake up here where we're working.  Me with my mouth open as wide as an African Hippo yawning, just blinked at her.  I thought okay.  Maybe I can control my leg.  I put a lot of concentration on it and found I was somewhat successful.  It was tough to get over the feeling of drowning in my own spit and calming my leg all at the same time. 

 I'm not sure how much time went by, but this was not a five minute procedure, I assure you.  Have to give them credit, though, they are doing their best to make people as comfortable as possible-- there was a television on the ceiling.  I have no idea what was on... And, they were right, there was no pain.