Posted on May 29, 2008 - by mishi
Do you spit or swallow?
I haven’t been around these parts in the last few days. I’ve been having some dental pain…and I’m really just using that as an excuse not to write. I totally could have posted cuz I’ve been working out every day.
Anywho. I’ve had problems with an upper tooth that she had previously put a filling in. Let me clear something up…I don’t have horrible teeth. I know it seems like I must have rotting shells of teeth in my head, but I really don’t. I haven’t had a cavity in 7 years. So this is a complete fiasco for me as well. Ever since she drilled into this tooth (which I didn’t even know I had a cavity in in the first place mind you) it has been really hurty. Sensitive to hot and cold and hard and soft and all the chocolate and hard candy I ate made it really excruciating. I went back once last week…got novicane…got the filling filed down because it was “biting high.” Went home. Lived in pain for another week. Went in this past Tuesday. Got Novicane. Got it it filed down again because apparently I was still biting high. Why wasn’t this taken care of in the first place? Ya. I’ve wondered that as well. But oh well. I love the novicane, the Reader’s Digest and the 2 chocolate labs that keep me company.
Fast forward to today. I was running on the treadmill when the extreme discomfort in my whole body was replaced by the extreme pain in my tooth. How f-ed up is that? What kind of tooth hurts when you exercise. I should sell that info. What a perfect excuse to be fat and lazy.
So I went in…again…and told her about the problems. By now the hygienist and I are totally BFFs. She thinks I’m funny. I think I’m funny. It’s a friendship that’s meant to be, really.
I was told she was going to put a sedative filling with the idea that it would calm the nerve down. She gave me 4 shots of Novicane. Started drilling. I cringed. She gave me 3 more. Another conversation about WW later, she started drilling and I cringed. I think you know where this is going, folks. She obviously didn’t read the pink sticky note on my file that says “don’t waste her time with anything less than 10 shots.” Four more shots and not only was I not feeling the tooth, I wasn’t even sure the left side of my nose was there anymore.
Sidenote, folks. When the dentist, doctor or whoever has you in an altered state says “oh” or something along those lines, know that things aren’t going as they thought they were going to go. I heard the “oh” and thought of asking what the problem was, but thought better of it since the drill was dangerously close to being able to drill a hole through my tongue. Not that Jeff would’ve minded if the tongue ring made an appearance, but that’s besides the point.
Then just like she was telling me to stop eating gummy worms before bed, she casually mentioned that she had done a partial root canal.
Sweet Jesus.
If you remember correctly, I don’t have dental insurance. I would have told her to rip the goddamn thing out and I’d get one of those gold grills from downtown.
Now here’s the best part. I was insanely overdue for an oil change, so for some reason, I decided this would be a great time to get it done. I went to the Instant Oil Change place and they brought out their little book and was trying to sell me shit. I was saying no, but it really wasn’t sounding like my voice. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the left side of my lip was lame. As in it wasn’t moving when I spoke. I looked like I had a stroke. I didn’t even care about the dried spit on my cheek.
Apparently my spitting isn’t as good as it used to be
