Perverse Pleasure
This may seem odd, but I enjoy going to the dentist. Other people whine about the pain. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Quite frankly anything the dentist does in the office can not even compare to the pain of an exposed nerve, the day to day pain of a tooth gone bad. When I go the dentist I know that slowly but surely we are repairing the terrible mess that is in my mouth and sooner or later I can smile in such a way that my teeth are actually exposed, rather than the grim tight lipped smile I've perfected over the years.
My father couldn't make it to his appointment this afternoon, but since we use the same dentist and he is a friend of the family they let me come in instead. I thought that since it had been quite some time since my last appointment (scheduling with this dentist is rather difficult) that he might just do a cleaning and reassess the situation. This was not the case. It was time to numb the gums and drill away.
I wish I knew the proper terminology (I just spent fifteen minutes browsing through search results for incisor and dental chart and am none the wiser) but will have to suffice by saying that the doc was working on one of my upper front teeth. It was somewhat terrifying in that this is very visible not like the molars I've had pulled in the past and the doc seemed to be drilling and grinding away for an awful long time.
While the doc was away shaping the temporary plastic cap, the dental assistant was kind enough to give me a handheld mirror that I might burn the image of this worn down bit of a tooth in the front of my mouth. I looked like something straight off the cover of an Appalachian poverty pamphlet. If I were to leave the cap off, I could probably land the part of drunk hillbilly number 2 in a dukes of hazard sequel. It would be a close up on the mouth with maybe a little drool coming over the side of the lip as I leer at one Jessica Simpson, just prior to her beating the tar out of myself and drunk hillbilly number 1 (who may or may not sport more teeth, but will feature a scraggly grey beard and unkempt mullet. As number 2 I, of course, would have to shave my head completely bald and would have to replace my goatee with mutton chops).
So now I'm totally Dr. Teeth of Muppet fame except instead of gold crowns, I'm sporting a piece of plastic finery. Even though this is a temporary measure the doc must have spent an hour shaping it too look just right. I'm thinking that these guys could all be sculptors on the side.
In summary: The dentist is your friend. Once one has experienced a high degree of tooth pain, dental work is nothing in comparison (though take the Vicadin if its offered). I'm ready for the Dukes part II.
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My father couldn't make it to his appointment this afternoon, but since we use the same dentist and he is a friend of the family they let me come in instead. I thought that since it had been quite some time since my last appointment (scheduling with this dentist is rather difficult) that he might just do a cleaning and reassess the situation. This was not the case. It was time to numb the gums and drill away.
I wish I knew the proper terminology (I just spent fifteen minutes browsing through search results for incisor and dental chart and am none the wiser) but will have to suffice by saying that the doc was working on one of my upper front teeth. It was somewhat terrifying in that this is very visible not like the molars I've had pulled in the past and the doc seemed to be drilling and grinding away for an awful long time.
While the doc was away shaping the temporary plastic cap, the dental assistant was kind enough to give me a handheld mirror that I might burn the image of this worn down bit of a tooth in the front of my mouth. I looked like something straight off the cover of an Appalachian poverty pamphlet. If I were to leave the cap off, I could probably land the part of drunk hillbilly number 2 in a dukes of hazard sequel. It would be a close up on the mouth with maybe a little drool coming over the side of the lip as I leer at one Jessica Simpson, just prior to her beating the tar out of myself and drunk hillbilly number 1 (who may or may not sport more teeth, but will feature a scraggly grey beard and unkempt mullet. As number 2 I, of course, would have to shave my head completely bald and would have to replace my goatee with mutton chops).
So now I'm totally Dr. Teeth of Muppet fame except instead of gold crowns, I'm sporting a piece of plastic finery. Even though this is a temporary measure the doc must have spent an hour shaping it too look just right. I'm thinking that these guys could all be sculptors on the side.
In summary: The dentist is your friend. Once one has experienced a high degree of tooth pain, dental work is nothing in comparison (though take the Vicadin if its offered). I'm ready for the Dukes part II.
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posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 1:02 AM
5 Comments:
here's a toothchart:
http://www.ada.org/public/topics/permanent_number.asp
my sister, andrea, is almost finished studying to me a dental hygenist. i was one of her patients--it was an all afternoon afair so that her profs could watch her (and 10 other students with their volunteer patients) clean my teeth, probe each of my pockets (the gum around each tooth), polish, take xrays and all of that. she's so good that i fell asleep while she was sticking very sharp objects between my teeth and gums to check the depths. didn't feel a thing.
in summary: if it hurts that bad when you go to the dentist, maybe you should find a different one. it shouldn't hurt that bad.
My dentist is a beauty and most of her assistants are equally as hot. It's definitely a pleasure when she leans over me to work in my mouth....(sigh).
i always want pictures of those things!
Shy -- Ok on that chart I think Im missing numbers 30, 31 and 18. Yesterdays work was primary on either 8 or 9 not sure which way that is facing im thinking 9 the central incisor on my right. He is an excelent dentist I was comparing the pain of having a toot good bad to te after pain of an extraction.
Sirtalksalot -- My dentist is a man so that kills that entire angle of it all. Back when I used to pay for haircuts though I used to enjoy the trip as it is almost always to a room filled with attractive women. now with the balding male buzz cut I just wait for a brother to come visit and I hand em the clippers.
Sheri -- I had considered getting a picture, but all the vibrations caued an adacent tooth enamal to come of and it is exceptionally hideous. Ick.
You know, I agree. There is something about going to the dentist that makes me feel very adult-like and responsible.
James Frey's book A Million Little Pieces about his treatment for drug/alcohol/paint thinner/gasoline/everything you can imagine addiction has the single most graphic dentist account I have ever hear of. He had to have a full root canal and a bunch of other work done whle he was in drug treatment, meaning no novacain whatsoever.
Eesh.
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