Yesterday I went to the dentist to have my cavities filled. My usual dentist wasn’t there, so just like in school, they brought in a substitute. And just like in school, the substitute wasn’t very good. It was awful and I hate the dentist even more. I started recounting my trials to Tiff and she couldn’t stop laughing at me, so she turned on the camera.
Basically what happened was… after me knocking onto the floor all the stuff that would go into my mouth as I was reclining from sitting to laying down, which I had no control over, I got three abnormally painful shots. They got the top half of my mouth feeling all funny, but they didn’t do the trick for the bottom. So, I got two more shots for the bottom.
The dentist starts working on the top and drill, drill, drill… OW! Insane amount of pain. I raise my hand like I’ve been told to do if it hurts. The first thing he said was something like, “it shouldn’t be hurting now.” And if that wasn’t comforting enough, he then said to his assistant, “Have you ever…?” He explained that if it didn’t hurt before it shouldn’t be hurting at this point. Then he gave me another shot.
As I was waiting for the sixth shot to kick in, I started thinking about my wife’s grandfather who – through stories – apparently cut off part of his toe because of a persistent blister that was bothering him. I’ve heard the story several times and I’ve always been impressed with the level of pain tolerance, but sitting in that chair, for the first time I began to wonder why he didn’t just get a different pair of shoes. It was this story though that helped me through the pain that would come.
Yes, the pain continued. After the amount of time, dear old dentist, with drill in hand, had at it. This time the pain was pretty intense but I was determined to man up and get through it. Plus, I didn’t want the giant needle in my mouth anymore. When after about thirty seconds of drilling, the pain level shot up and I involuntarily reacted, the dentist jerked away from my mouth and said something I hope to never hear again, let alone from a dentist: “You’re scaring me.”
You’re scaring me, doctor. I pushed through until the drilling was done. And then it was time for the fillings, which involved giant metal spacers and picks that stick between your teeth. All in all, it was awful. And while I hate flossing and have trouble doing it, I will be flossing from here on out, if it means that I will never experience that again.
3 comments:
I don't think my granddad ever cut off his toe because of a blister... although knowing him, it doesn't sound completely crazy to assume that happened either. You and your imagination...
fyi - everyone reading this should stop the video around minute 2:33 and look at that sad, little face...
Poor,poor John Duffy. Years of neglect have finally caught up with you. Did you know your mother sometimes doesn't get numb with novacaine? Look at the alternative flossing stuff in the drug department, you might find something that works for you.
Hahaha "it hurts!" ... thanks for that, Martha!
I was wrong in my earlier comment... it's 0:36 - 0:37 ish that is the sad, little face.
:)
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