the worst of it is over

Lets chat about my Endodontist appointment shall we?

At the risk of sounding a tad bitter, can I just say to all of you who e-mailed me with stories of glorious pain free root canal experiences, that I hate you. No, I truly do, and I stand by my claim to be more willing to give birth to a 10lb. baby med free then go to the dentist, and we can now add Endodontist to that list. I can claim it cause I've done it, and believe you me, I will labor any day of the week!

Lets not even mention the pain for a moment, can we just start with the pure humiliation of dental work. It all begins with wearing a paper bib.....I need say no more. But alas, I cannot help myself. Then there are the sugary promises by the tech people with their blond hair, and perfect smiles, promises that it will only pinch for a moment, and that this doc, their doc, is the best. Throughout the procedure I was promised 4 times that I was over the worst of it, 4 times! Do you know how many of those times I believed them? Only when the humiliating bib was removed did I think there was any hope that the worst was over.

The bib and the promises were only the beginning though, then came the x-rays. That's the part where an unmanageable contraption is placed between your teeth, and you are instructed to bite down, and not swallow. Guess what I have to do as soon as someone tells me not swallow? That's right, the only thing I can think to do, is swallow.

Soon there is the application of the oral numbing paste. Oh, yeah, and as providence would have it, it was my all time favorite flavor, bubblegum! How many elementary students get root canals? Not many I would guess, not enough to warrant bubble gum flavor at the Endodontist's office, and by the way, I would probably actually like it, if it really did indeed taste even remotely like bubble gum.

After the numbing paste has sufficiently made my tongue feel three times it's natural size, the doc came in to meet me for the very first time. Great I thought, I don't feel humiliated at all. Now I am lying on my back, with a paper bib around my neck, and drool running out of the corner of my mouth, attempting to answer 20 questions. "What do I do, how many children do I have, what are their ages..." Have I even mentioned yet that tears are already running down my temples and into my ears from the shear anticipation of the experience that I was about to endure. I am sure this fact was not lost on the docs assistant as she repeatedly patted my hand with assurance.

This is when the questions began about my past experiences with the dental profession. Here is the jest of my story. Dentist can't get me numb, dentist keeps pumping me with Novocaine, or what ever that evil stuff is that is in that huge syringe at the end of that extremely large needle, Dentist pumps still more of evil substance in my gum, proceeds to drill, only to have to scrape me off the ceiling, paper bib and all, and then pumps more evil. Numbness never occurs in the tooth region, but migrates up covering my whole right side from under my eye to the right pectoral. I begin to panic, Dentist assures me I will be fine as he instructs his assistant to call my husband, and I have to lay in the torture chair until my heart stops racing, and my prince charming arrives to save me from the evil Novocaine pumper. end of story. Were you wondering why I was so afraid? Well, now you know. My Endodontist gets the even shorter version, and gives me some mambo jumbo about how he will get me numb, and it will be a piece of cake. He lost me at the mention of cake, as my stomach was already growling for lunch.

As if the humiliation was not yet quite enough at this torture chamber, they proceeded to fit me with a very stylish fluorescent green rubber screen that as they explained, was meant to protect my face. The corners of said screen was ruffly poking my left nostril, and my right eye. I am sure it was a very pretty picture, and also very unlike any cake I have ever witnessed. The screen was attached to the molar, tooth 31 I believe they called it, at the center, so it covered my whole mouth accept that one singular sick tooth. Can you picture that now, and under that contraption I am trying to hold my mouth open wide enough for this new torturer to get both of his hands, his syringe full of evil, the assistants hand, and the sucky mouth vacuum thingy into it. Then the nightmare happened all over again, minus the migrating thing thank goodness, and the husband calling part, because he was already there. For some reason my mouth is resistant to whatever that evil substance is that they use. I think I counted about 5 shots, maybe more.

When all was said and done, and I sulked back to the front desk, they asked me to wait, that the doc wanted a word with me. I immediately reverted back to the 4th grade when I was called on the intercom to report to Mr. Vanderwall the Principal's office. My brain raced to find a reason for my trouble. I had been reduced to a humiliated 4th grader, and I stared at the brushed nickel door nob and contemplated for just a moment making a run for it!

Soon the torturer emerged. He was a small man, tanned skin, and big teeth. He had a warmness about him, and his face looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry" he said kindly "about that" he stammered. "It doesn't usually go like that", he looked at the floor "I'm sorry" his voice trailed off as he padded away. I looked up, the office manager was glued to me. Her face was marked by compassion. I then entered the waiting room, empty but for my sweet man. I used the restroom to have a mini meltdown, while Michael paid the considerable bill, which by the way Jen, as big as it was, did not hurt even remotely as much as my mouth.:)

So there you have it, six hours later I am still numb, but like they said, the worst of it is over. RIGHT????

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