About two months ago I began to notice some very telling tooth pain. I knew from experience what the pain was telling me, and it was telling me I hadn’t taken sufficient care of my teeth.
In retrospect, it probably shouldn’t be that unexpected that I found myself with more than one cavity. The last time I was at a dentist of any kind was back in the first half of 2005, over four years ago. In any event, I knew this was a problem that wouldn’t correct itself, and the longer I put off doing anything about it, the worse it would get. Before any actions on my part could be taken however, and as it happened a piece of one of the fillings I got all those years ago, broke. This compounded an already aggravated dental situation, and hindered my day to day mastication.
My first visit to a dentist, which I picked out using a real life phone book, was on July 10th. I had x-rays taken and a cleaning done. It was at this point that I found out exactly what was going on in my enamel. The verdict: three cavities and a broken filling. All of which just happened to be in the left, rear portion of my mouth. One week after my first visit, my second was scheduled, on July 17th.
I’m pretty confident when I say that one of the worst pains I’ve felt in my life is when I previously got my teeth drilled. Now, I don’t generally find the dentist, or any kind of doctor, nerve-wracking, but the memory of the pain I felt that first time was in the front of my mind. It was for this reason that I brought my little stress reliever ball with me on the trip. Last time I don’t think the dentist gave me enough novocaine, actually I know he didn’t, because when his drill got down to the root of the tooth, I was in pain. Even though the part that was painful was brief, it was quite enough to have it burned into my memory, but not enough to make me paranoid about my teeth or dentists.
So I went to the dentist for my second visit at three o’clock PM. I arrived about five minutes early, signed myself in and took a seat. The receptionist asked me if I was going to start with the fillings today, and I responded affirmatively. In no time I was called in by one of the assistants who led me to my chair. I sat down, the doctor came and sat next to me and began to inspect the mouth which he would soon enough begin to drill out.
Mmmmhmmmm… *clink prod prod* Hmmmmm… *clink clink* Yes, yes. So Jeffrey, you want to have these cavities drilled out, correct?
Never has a more loaded question ever been asked. But that might just be hyperbole talking. Nevertheless, indeed, I wanted those cavities to be drilled out. Upon hearing my answer, the doctor readied the equipment, and up first was the needle to administer the novocaine, via the gums. A few minutes later, he returns to finish the job, or start the job, whatever. The drill comes out.
But I’m prepared, I produce my stress ball from my pocket and grip it firmly in my hands, prepared for the worst. He tells me if I feel any pain to just raise my hand, I tell him he’ll know before I get a chance to raise my hand. And with those words, a plastic spacer goes in my mouth, and the drilling commences. He begins on the top teeth, and it’s difficult for me to tell exactly where or what he was doing since I was numbed up. But when he started to drill on the one lower tooth that needed to be drilled, that I could feel, and my face showed it. The man doing the drilling imeediatly stopped and said, whoops, still a little painful there, and gave me a gracious coating of deliciously minty nerve numbing fluid.
Continuing his work on the top teeth, the broken filling tooth is the one that he had to spend the most time with, since I imagine the shape and size of the filling he had to make was not normal. There was a lot of picking and scraping and molding involved, as well as using a heat gun to, I’m assuming, mold the old and the new together. After he finished on the top, he once again began work on the lower tooth, this time I was sufficiently numbed. Without much incident, or pain for that matter, he finished all my teeth. It had only taken him around fourty minutes.
As quickly as he had come, the dentist had vanished. In reality he has simply walked to the lobby of the office, I followed shortly there after. I waited as he reviewed my file, after a minute he told the receptionist to give me twenty percent off because I was such a good patient and didn’t scream once. I chuckled and thanked him. The receptionist tallied up my bill including my “good patient” discount. After paying it, I was done and free to go.
And so that concluded my trip to the dentist, the first trip in over four years. So remember kids, don’t trust your government, learn a new language, and take care of your feet teeth.