Dental Woes
Recently, one of my upper, more frontal teeth has started to hurt like hell. This is most likely because I have always had problems with my teeth (being born prematurely apparently does not do wonders for jaw development, and also my father is a hillbilly with a busted grill...teef genetics are not on my side) as well as the fact that I am rather poor and thus have not seen a dentist in a decade.
Anyway, this particular tooth has been separating from the gum for years. It's never hurt until about three weeks ago, so I figured it could wait. I always intended to fix it, but as I said, my ass is po' and therefore it wasn't a priority.
The tooth eventually grew tired of my neglect and decided to rebel. Not that I blame it. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't want to hurt me sooner. I was in agony for several days until biting the bullet (figuratively of course, because holy crap ow) and going to visit the dentist I had as a child. She was kind enough to look, although she and her secretary wouldn't shut up about my insurance and money and so on. But she seemed placated when I told her that my family would be helping out, and led me to the chair.
Now, I am a huge wuss when it comes to doctors of any sort, and dentists especially. This is slightly stupid since I have quite a high pain tolerance, and have never really had any issues at the dentist or doctor that I couldn't handle. There have been a lot, too. I've had teeth pulled, metal spacers both put in and taken out, my jaw widened, braces, the whole shebang. But these things didn't really hurt that much, at least not that I recall, and I have no legitimate reason to fear the dentist. But oh Lordy, do I. And after my last appointment, I feel my fears are finally grounded in reality.
There was the usual checkup and poking around with a lovely metal spike, which is always a such a relaxing experience. Also, why do dentists ALWAYS try to have a conversation when they have their hand and various sharp metal things in your mouth? I mean, I'm dumb, but even I know better. These people have actual real-world smart people degrees. Come on, dentists. Anyway, all was relatively well, and after x-rays were taken it was decided that I need a root canal on my poor misbehaving tooth.
(As an aside, this doesn't bother me. Root canals are supposedly horrendous, everything I've read and everyone I've spoken to that's had one says they're no worse than any other filling, so meh. Of course I'll scream like a banshee on here and in the office if it's bad, but I'm not going in expecting hellfire and torture. And I probably just jinxed myself, but whatevs).
The only bad part about the little checkup came when the dentist, who is a very kind and gentle lady in her daily life, pulled out a strange little tool that looked like a disturbing cross between a clit stimulator and a can opener and said she wanted to perform a test to see if the nerve inside the tooth was still functioning. With some trepidation, I reluctantly agreed, thinking that with everything I've been subjected to before this couldn't possibly be worse.
Oh how wrong I was. She leaned the chair back, affixed the little tool to my poor tooth and had me hold onto the handle of the tool loosely. She told me that when I felt anything, I should immediately let go of the tool and it would stop the sensation. Seemed easy enough, so I readied myself for a slight jolt.
For the first few seconds, I felt nothing. Then what I thought was cold, which gave way rapidly to the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire freaking life, concentrated into my one poor, poor little tooth. I screamed like an absolute girl, and instead of letting go of the stupid clit stimulator of death I tightened my grip, which only made things worse. Perhaps I should have mentioned to my lovely sadistic dentist that when one experiences pain, muscles tend to tense up, not loosen. Thankfully, my cry of agony must have conveyed my pain, because she stopped. I sat in shock for a few seconds, then tried to leave, thinking the appointment was over.
Nope! She wanted to test the tooth on the other side in the same way. I have no idea why I agreed, but I did, with less than desireable results for the both of us. But she should have known better, so I'm really not sorry that I kinda kicked her in the crotchal region.
Her husband is performing my root canal surgery in a couple weeks. I can only pray that she didn't tell him to get vengeance. I'm sure her junk hurt for awhile, since I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes. Still, serves her right.
Anyway, this particular tooth has been separating from the gum for years. It's never hurt until about three weeks ago, so I figured it could wait. I always intended to fix it, but as I said, my ass is po' and therefore it wasn't a priority.
The tooth eventually grew tired of my neglect and decided to rebel. Not that I blame it. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't want to hurt me sooner. I was in agony for several days until biting the bullet (figuratively of course, because holy crap ow) and going to visit the dentist I had as a child. She was kind enough to look, although she and her secretary wouldn't shut up about my insurance and money and so on. But she seemed placated when I told her that my family would be helping out, and led me to the chair.
Now, I am a huge wuss when it comes to doctors of any sort, and dentists especially. This is slightly stupid since I have quite a high pain tolerance, and have never really had any issues at the dentist or doctor that I couldn't handle. There have been a lot, too. I've had teeth pulled, metal spacers both put in and taken out, my jaw widened, braces, the whole shebang. But these things didn't really hurt that much, at least not that I recall, and I have no legitimate reason to fear the dentist. But oh Lordy, do I. And after my last appointment, I feel my fears are finally grounded in reality.
There was the usual checkup and poking around with a lovely metal spike, which is always a such a relaxing experience. Also, why do dentists ALWAYS try to have a conversation when they have their hand and various sharp metal things in your mouth? I mean, I'm dumb, but even I know better. These people have actual real-world smart people degrees. Come on, dentists. Anyway, all was relatively well, and after x-rays were taken it was decided that I need a root canal on my poor misbehaving tooth.
(As an aside, this doesn't bother me. Root canals are supposedly horrendous, everything I've read and everyone I've spoken to that's had one says they're no worse than any other filling, so meh. Of course I'll scream like a banshee on here and in the office if it's bad, but I'm not going in expecting hellfire and torture. And I probably just jinxed myself, but whatevs).
The only bad part about the little checkup came when the dentist, who is a very kind and gentle lady in her daily life, pulled out a strange little tool that looked like a disturbing cross between a clit stimulator and a can opener and said she wanted to perform a test to see if the nerve inside the tooth was still functioning. With some trepidation, I reluctantly agreed, thinking that with everything I've been subjected to before this couldn't possibly be worse.
Oh how wrong I was. She leaned the chair back, affixed the little tool to my poor tooth and had me hold onto the handle of the tool loosely. She told me that when I felt anything, I should immediately let go of the tool and it would stop the sensation. Seemed easy enough, so I readied myself for a slight jolt.
For the first few seconds, I felt nothing. Then what I thought was cold, which gave way rapidly to the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire freaking life, concentrated into my one poor, poor little tooth. I screamed like an absolute girl, and instead of letting go of the stupid clit stimulator of death I tightened my grip, which only made things worse. Perhaps I should have mentioned to my lovely sadistic dentist that when one experiences pain, muscles tend to tense up, not loosen. Thankfully, my cry of agony must have conveyed my pain, because she stopped. I sat in shock for a few seconds, then tried to leave, thinking the appointment was over.
Nope! She wanted to test the tooth on the other side in the same way. I have no idea why I agreed, but I did, with less than desireable results for the both of us. But she should have known better, so I'm really not sorry that I kinda kicked her in the crotchal region.
Her husband is performing my root canal surgery in a couple weeks. I can only pray that she didn't tell him to get vengeance. I'm sure her junk hurt for awhile, since I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes. Still, serves her right.