I had to get a root canal yesterday. Which sucked. I've actually had this done once before, but this time was way worse. The whole thing dates back to some dental work done years ago that was done improperly and which has screwed up two molars for some time now (teeth 20 and 21 for those of you keeping official score). Apparently, I'm slowly turning into this guy.
My dentist's practice, unbeknownst to me, was sold over the summer, so I arrived to find a new team in place. No big deal. Although the practice is no longer M_____ and R_____, DDS. It's now called "A Touch of Smiles," which I find creepy. I'm not sure why, but there's just something creepy about the words "touch" and "smiles" being used together.
I digress. Owing to my new insurance, I spend 40 minutes in the waiting room while the good people at Blue Cross give the good people at TofS the runaround [come to think of it, the abbreviation is even creepier]. At last, I get authenticated and sent in to see Dr. Ra.
I digress. Owing to my new insurance, I spend 40 minutes in the waiting room while the good people at Blue Cross give the good people at TofS the runaround [come to think of it, the abbreviation is even creepier]. At last, I get authenticated and sent in to see Dr. Ra.
Being a nerd, I was thinking of Ra the sun god of ancient Egypt. Not that I expected a fifty-foot tall statue with a dog head, mind you. But I wasn't expecting a barely 30, slightly taller Lucy-Liu. Her sidekick was sort of a lovechild between Officer Barbrady from SouthPark, the "look into the light" lady from Poltergeist, and Mrs. Pool from Valerie's Family.
The lovely Liu-esque Dr. Ra had a personality not unlike O-Ren Ishii. Clearly Barbrady/Poltergeist lady wasn't Ra's first pick, because she spent half of the time we were all together admonishing her about where to put tools, where not to put tools, which tool she needed NOW, etc. And to be fair, she kind of had a point. I've got half a tooth missing, a metal x-ray holder thingy in my mouth, and B/P drops the lead sweater vest onto me and catches the x-ray holder edge. This was before the Novocaine.
The lovely Liu-esque Dr. Ra had a personality not unlike O-Ren Ishii. Clearly Barbrady/Poltergeist lady wasn't Ra's first pick, because she spent half of the time we were all together admonishing her about where to put tools, where not to put tools, which tool she needed NOW, etc. And to be fair, she kind of had a point. I've got half a tooth missing, a metal x-ray holder thingy in my mouth, and B/P drops the lead sweater vest onto me and catches the x-ray holder edge. This was before the Novocaine.
The good dentist, meanwhile, is directly above me, wearing a surgical mask so that all I can see are her eyes, and asking if the Novocaine has taken effect. I, of course, in a sign of perpetual adolescence, am wondering how many chins I have when I'm laying flat in the dentist chair. One would be the good answer, but I'm pretty sure it was something like Pi.
Likewise, I'm wondering what the fact that I have "Outside" magazine with me says about me. Especially since it's clear I'm not on my way to climb anything anytime soon. Should I have brought The New Yorker? Too stuffy? Vanity Fair? Too gay? Should I have placed pictures of my family on the tray so she doesn't think my pleasant, gauze-accented conversation is anything more than that? [I can only imagine what her life must be like. As she was elbow deep in my molar, a guy from the next room came in "just to say thanks." Right.]
Likewise, I'm wondering what the fact that I have "Outside" magazine with me says about me. Especially since it's clear I'm not on my way to climb anything anytime soon. Should I have brought The New Yorker? Too stuffy? Vanity Fair? Too gay? Should I have placed pictures of my family on the tray so she doesn't think my pleasant, gauze-accented conversation is anything more than that? [I can only imagine what her life must be like. As she was elbow deep in my molar, a guy from the next room came in "just to say thanks." Right.]
I was expecting my old dentist, who made bad Marathon Man jokes and kvetched about how he chose the wrong school for his undergraduate degree. He also used the word "putz" a lot. (As in, "let that crown set. Don't be a putz and chew gum this afternoon with that tooth.")
Anyway, Doc Ra hits my tooth with a metal tool to see if I'm numb, and indeed I am. On the outside of the tooth. Inside is a different story. As God is my witness, I actually rose a few inches off the chair when she hit the inside of the tooth with the drill. It was the kind of white-hot pain that could get me to "confess" to just about anything. Dirty bomb in my Subaru? Sure. Secret love of Ice Capades? Fine, just put down the drill.
She stopped when it became evident I was no longer on the chair, and then said, in an unnervingly (no pun intended) calm voice. "Are you OK? We can give you some more." At which point she injected the Novocaine INTO THE NERVE ITSELF. At least that's what it felt like.
She then said, in the kind of understatement usually reserved for Minnesota farmers after a tornado, "this is going to hurt," and followed it with something that felt like it belonged in a movie trailer: "but it will be the last you feel of anything with that nerve." In a world...
She then said, in the kind of understatement usually reserved for Minnesota farmers after a tornado, "this is going to hurt," and followed it with something that felt like it belonged in a movie trailer: "but it will be the last you feel of anything with that nerve." In a world...
The rest of the procedure went fairly uneventfully, and I have a follow up in two weeks. Stay tuned.
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