Thursday, March 18, 2010

There Will Be Smoke Coming from Your Mouth

"There will be smoke coming from your mouth. I thought I should warn you." This from my dentist while I'm playing tonsil hockey with a mouth condom.

Bill Cosby screaming, "Fi-ber, Fiii-ber," floated through my mind, but I couldn't begin the mimic since half of my face was numb, the weight of drill held my jaw down, and the aforementioned condom tested my gag reflex.

Today was Root Canal Day. 
Lawzy, lawzy, let the festivities begin!

Many well meaning souls offered advice and sympathy, all to such a point that fear forced the use of clinical strength deodorant. You do not want your dentist fainting from fetid stench. It is a gross understatement to say I have a low threshold for pain. I have no threshold. I faint from a splinter in my thumb. Yet the past four years have been an exercise in oral tortures that would make the Marquis de Sade quite proud.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided that puberty wasn't enough fun the first time around. I revisited it in my thirties. Yeehaaaaw. I started with braces, full gunmetal-gleaming goo-snagging after-dinner-treating top and bottom braces. Halfway through my exquisite pretties, my orthodontist and an oral surgeon decided that cracking my face with a croquet mallet would be the ultimate solution to stop me from gnawing on my food like a wildebeast (they're hopeful the snarling will abate in three to five years).

If you've never worn a bra for your cheeks,
you're missing a high point in lingerie.

I have survived spacers, monthly ratcheting, a Terminator rebuild, metal-from-cement bracket removal, and the requisite clean up of laser gum trimming, polishing, and whitening.

Nothing is more excruciating than teeth whitening.

My dentist is fully aware of my issues with pain and needles. She ensured I was reduced to the state of a drooling Bullmastiff before firing up the drill and vacuum. While I may have left her office dragging one foot behind me, slobbering, and mumbling, "yeth, mather. yeth, mather," I did not leave in discomfort.  

Truth be known, being attacked by Captain Hook during routine cleanings is far worse than a root canal.  

All hail numbing goo.


  1. I don't mean to laugh, I swear. But you just reminded me of my wisdom tooth extraction. That was a fun day...what I remember of it. I don't have a big pain issue, pretty good with that and dentists don't bother me. However, if you want to see me freak out, send me to the eye doctor for that air test thing...I have no idea what it's called but they put the needle close to your eye...Yeah, I cry like a little girl. I'm crying now just thinking about it. *shudder*

    Hope you feel better!

  2. The Puff Test! Wicked, evil optometrists.

    Oh, and go ahead and laugh. I was slobbering the Chipmunks song as the scent of burning flesh filled the room.

  3. I can't even laugh - I hate the dentist too much. I shudder for you.