Adventures In The Chair

I am a self-proclaimed procrastinator in two things: filling the gas tank, and going to the dentist. You can guess which one gets me into more trouble.

Its not the needles. Really. (even though I know from personal experience which spot in your mouth is the most painful to receive anesthetic) Its not the numb lip, or the little bib they put around you just in case the local anesthetic causes you to loose control of your saliva glands. It isn't even the instruments that mimic the shrieks echoing from the darkest depths of hell.

No. What keeps me far away from any animated teeth wearing shades and grasping toothbrushes like sabers, is the ridicule. That's right. Dentists are snobby, money hungry, and just down right mean! And not to mention creepy.

Here's how I see it. If I'm going to shell out HUNDREDS, maybe even THOUSANDS of dollars I expect not necessarily respect but to at least be treated like a human being.

You have to understand....I got braces when I was in 4th grade, and didn't even get them off until I was a freshman in high school. Braces are a life changing event. Believe me, I could dedicate and entire blog just to the horrors of headgear. Its not like you go to the orthodontist one day, and he's like, "Here's your braces, have a nice day!" Oh no! Check-ups every 8 weeks. And usually with check-ups come....*grimace*.....tightening.

The Ortho tries to dress it up and make it "fun" by letting you choose the shade of rubber band he so sadistically wraps around your tooth. "Well it's December now. How about some Christmas colors, eh?"

Eggh. Anyway. That's not the worst of it. Every check-up the ortho would be "frustrated" because the progress wasn't going the way he'd expected. He'd complain that I wasn't brushing right or not wearing my headgear. (even though I had the dark circles from sleepless nights to prove it!) I would always think, well, stop crabbing at me. I'm 13. I didn't put these on myself. ;/

But probably the most disturbing visit was the last one, when he presented me with Polaroids of my progress through the ages. I was non-nonchalantly flipping through them when I found ones of my eleven year old self passed out cold in the chair.

"Oh, that's when you fell asleep," he played off. "Isn't it cute?"

Just for the record, I don't ever remember being asleep there. EVER.

I'll admit, getting my wisdom teeth surgically removed was probably the best two weekends of my life. They basically consisted of skipping work, sleeping, watching movies, eating ice cream, and taking controlled substances in two hour intervals.

Few years back I had a root canal and had to go to an "specialist." The entire two hours I was in that chair he never said one word to me that wasn't some sort of a command. No "hello, I'm the guy with the drill," no exchanging of pleasantries, nothing. I might as well have been a Mitsubishi.

But I digress....

Over the last few years, there have been several occurrences where a normal person would have gone to the dentist. I never got a crown on one of my root canals. This negligence resulted in a swirling black hole where enamel should be on my back molar. Last year, my front tooth filling was pulled off by a starburst, leaving behind an embarrassing brown spot. Oh well, I thought. At least I'll fit in better at Walmart.

For a few months I ate on the right side of my mouth, because if the other side came in contact with anything like salt, sugar, hot or cold beverage, I would sometimes feel a sharp pain jetting up into my upper jaw. The pain would eventually throb into the neighbor teeth until it was calmed by ibuprofen. But eventually ibuprofen stopped working. And even extra strength Tylenol stopped soothing the pain. Once I started waking up in the middle of the night and swallowing any pills I could find, hoping and praying that I would wake up alive the next day, I knew my fate was inevitable. I was going to have to go to the dentist.

With a heavy heart, I broke the news to Matt at 4 am. We have no insurance. This was going to be a doosie. Over two thousand dollars, according to the only dentist that was open on a Saturday. Luckily, he was so busy, he just prescribed me some awesome drugs and rescheduled me for a week later. Leaving me plenty of time to search for a cheeper, I mean, second opinion.

And I found one. Following rumors and doing my homework saved us about $800. And I'll say, this place was more like a day spa than a dentist's office. An LCD t.v. A fire place in the corner, (next to the chaise, of coarse) and headphones. The hygienist put a fancy pillow under my knees and a gas mask over my nose. I really want to bottle that stuff and bring it home. That stuff is great. The best way I can put it into words, is that I was (excuse my french) tripping balls. I was totally disconnected from my body, having a "meaning of life" conversation with...someone....I think it was a Care Bear. The green one. Or maybe the yellow one. And when I closed my eyes, I learned the most intricate secrets of the universe. To bad I can't remember any of it.

I do remember this. Dr. Dentist waited till I was completely under to say, out of no where, "I really hope your husband appreciates you." To which I replied, "Its all good."

That's what Care Bear said anyway.