The Dentist ...

I sat in the dentist's chair shaking in fear.

Forever - very afraid of the dentist. But I'm not sure why. Maybe because the dentist I had for 30 years has the personality of a stone ... No, that doesn't describe him right ... What would you call a stone, with a nasty attitude? umm, anyway, I'm pretty sure he doesn't like people... & he's got this 'holier than thou' thing... combined with a non-caring attitude. Overall, he always seemed -- just ... very cold. Like he's doing you a favor by allowing you to go to his office. It's difficult to explain...

I also think my dentist fears come from the fact that dental work is so invasive. "Open up" ... "wider" ... "wider" ... "OK now this is gonna hurt a little"... Kind of similar to going to the OBGYN ... only the other end.

And it goes way back -- to my childhood.

What's the ONE thing you hate the taste of? The one flavor that even the thought of it makes you gag? liver? Fish? garlic? For me, until I was 20 yrs old or so, it was mint. So you see, this made brushing unpleasant, and I gagged & dry-heaved every -- single -- time. They didn't have bubble gum flavored toothpaste waaayy back when I was a kid.

And then there's the fact that cotton in the mouth, for me, is like fingernails scraping a chalkboard.

So, I guess it's a compilation of all of that stuff. So I put off appointments. I wait. I reschedule. I cancel appointments....

Then yesterday.

I finally go. I don't want to deal with an abcess, so I just decide I need to grow up & deal with it. Force myself to keep the appt.

I'm supposed to have one molar taken out.

One, full-mouth x-ray later he comes in & says: "you know, this wisdom tooth really should come out. Lets do it today. My response? "Sure, why not." I know for a fact that my dentist told me 5 or 6 years ago that the wisdom tooth needed to come out. But it wasn't bothering me at all, so .... you know, why fix what ain't broke? AND I knew full-well, that I would not be back in that chair for an extraction for at least another few years.... so.... you get the idea.

Novocaine & needles never really bothered me. I don't know why, but they don't.

I get the shots. 5 minutes ... 10 minutes ... waiting is torture. Waiting means panicing, imagining everything that could possibly go wrong. Picturing myself hopping out of the chair & running out of there... He comes in. "You ready?" he says. ... I shrug. "You'll be fine" he tells me. Vice grip-like tool. He pushes down, really hard. Harder than my lower jaw can push back. The assistant has to apply upward pressure to my jaw to equal the dentist's pushing. I hear crunching, cracking. I taste blood. "Huh" the dentist says. "Huh?!?" "What does 'huh' mean" I think to myself. Dude! I scream in silence What does 'huh' mean?!? He keeps pushing, pulling. "Well, the tooth wants to come out" he adds. It wants to? I think to myself ... How do you know it wants to? I think it was perfectly happy right where it was. Do teeth talk to you? Do they say: Hello mr. dentist ... I'd really like to come out of this jawbone now.... she has been bombarding me with chocolate ... she should be arrested for her piss-poor flossing technique ... I simply cannot take it any longer.... And just then, he says "OK, that one's out", now we'll take the top one. Push, crunch, crack, pull, push, push, pull ... "OK you're all set". He says ... "How do you feel?" In my mind I respond: How do I feel? Are you fucking serious? And do you expect an answer? My mouth is numb, full of blood & cotton & little chips of teeth, and I'm supposed to talk? I nod. I guess that means I am OK, I am alive. Another traumatic event is over. I lived through it. Now I get to pay them hundreds of dollars for ripping parts of my body out & making me bleed.

They give me instructions. No smoking for 12 hours (ha) no straws (ok) no crumbly foods (ok) nothing "real" hot (ok) They give me gauze. I walk to the reception area & I sit down, checkbook & pen ... start making out the check. That's when they inform me my insurance covered it. "You're kidding." I say. Nope... Merry Christmas the lady says. Wow, that was a nice surprise.

I open the door & walk out through the waiting area, there are a half dozen people. I had not looked in a mirror or anything, but I could tell from the raised eyebrows, and attempted kind smiles & wide-eyed stares ... that I look like hell.

I leave there with two teeth less than I went in with. One molar & one wisdom tooth. And I look like a boxer - who lost - after 3 rounds.

And it pisses me off that I forgot to take the teeth with me. If I had, maybe the tooth fairy would have visited me last night.... nah, probably not ... since I wasn't really able to sleep.

And why do they call it a wisdom tooth? Is it the older = wiser thing? I am without it now & I don't feel any less wise... aside from the fact that if I was really smart I would have never lost any teeth to begin with.

And I also think we humans should adapt ... you're born & grow baby teeth ... then those fall out & you get your adult teeth. Well, hundreds of years ago, that was fine, nobody lived past 40 anyway. These days people are living well into their 80's, 90's, even 100's. Shouldn't whoever's in charge of adaptation let us start growing a 3rd set? Something in-between baby teeth & adult teeth?

And what the hell do we need wisdom teeth for anyway if they all just get pulled?

Please think positive, healing thoughts & send em my way ... Thanks.