Vehemently Vitriolic

It is with a certain amount of pride that I have never had a cavity. In my whole life, not a single one. I’m also proud I have all my vestigial pieces (well, okay, not the tail as thats only during embryonic development. But how cool would THAT be) as well, but that may soon come to an end. Lousy mother nature and her wisdom-tooth money.

This also means I’ve never had to be mutilated any fillings done, nor had to see my friendly neighbourhood DDS for anything worse than a cleaning. So, it came as a bit of a shock when I found out I had the dreaded cavity. Oh sure, tartar and I were bussom friends for a long time, but I never thought my teeth would cheat on me with decay.

I actually put having the things filled for close to a year. Why? Well, my entire idea of dentistry came from TV, which paints a…..less than glorious picture. I went back to the dentist (though I did flirt with the idea of going to see this Hispanic dentist guy across from MetroTown who’s name is Jesus Somethingorother. I figured if Jesus can’t do pain-free dentistry, then theres really no hope for any of us. Then I remembered someone also named Jesus served me something called “corned beef hash” in a diner in Anaheim once. I’m not totally up to speed on my New Testament, but I seem to recall God only having one son, so I figured it MUST be the same guy. And the breakfast wasn’t very good, so I passed on him as my oral surgeon. And I couldn’t find anyone named I. Yankum in the phonebook) I first saw for a cleaning. He seemed fine enough, so once my tooth got really bad, I made an appointment.

I was told when I made the appointment that it was “painless” and “quick”. But in the same breath, was told to bring an iPod or a DVD to watch to “take my mind off it”. So, instantly, my hypochondriac mind took over, seeing the endless, horrid possibilities which would cause someone to tell me to bring something to take my mind off a “painless” and “quick” procedure.

Its something genetic that took over next. I REALLY wanted to see how it would be done. Its a (possibly morbid) curiosity with how the human animal works. My mother had her colonoscopy video taped so she could see it at her leasure, and to this day, I can’t wait to have one. I asked the lady if I could possibly watch the procedure either in a mirror or via camera. Earlier in our conversation, she had mentioned she had worked at this office for 11-years, and I garantee that based on the look on her face when I asked, this was the FIRST time in 11-years anyone had actually asked. To my utter astonishment, she said she would check.

The appointment was made for the next day, so I had very little time to prepare. I looked up the procedure on a number of sites (once again proving Wikipedia and WebMD should be banned from my network) and had essentially convinced myself of imminent death. Disfiguration, no question, but death was surely an inevitable outcome.

The day of, I sync’ed up my iPod. At this point, it hit me that I really did not want to associate the torture to come with any music I actually like, so I got on my wifes machine and got some Dixie Chicks from her collection. If that didn’t make me loathe country, nothing would. I prepared myself mentally: I’m sure they do a couple of these a year; The guy seems to know what he’s doing; He likely has a whole lot of insurance.

I even went so far as to put on boxer shorts. I keep exactly 2-pairs of these. I put them on when it is all but certain my pants will come off in public at some point (so if we’re out having a beer together and you see the waistband of boxer shorts, its probably a good idea to get out of dodge before the misdermeanors start flying). And, feeling a trip in an ambulance was nothing short of assured, I brought a pair out of retirement. I’ve seen ER before, I know they snigger.

I got to the office, and was ushered in. I met up with the dental assistant first. In the same way I say completely inappropriate things in airports, I sat down down in the chair and asked for my shot of whiskey and my bullet to bight down on. She laughed the same way the TSA does before I go “over there”. She assured me everything would be fine, blah blah blah. Right, becuase she would usually say “Sheeeeeeeiiiitttt…..it gonna hurt your sorry-ass”. The watching thing was not goign to happen, she said. Not that they couldn’t, but that there wouldn’t likely be room. Which turns out to be correct. I had enough stainless-steel in my mouth and any given moment to build a Delorean.

Then, the doctor came in. I was pretty terrified at this point. I may have dialed “91″ into my phone and had my hand hovering over the “1″, but everything got kinda hazy.
Actually, the dcotor was super ultra cool. He brought up my X-rays, and answered all my questions about them, and pointed out some cool stuff the untrained eye would never see. So I began to feel better. I also felt, hey, I know this procedure, I want to ask more!

I have a fascination with how things work (as I may have mentioned), and the human machine is no different. I like knowing how things go, if for no other reason than to spew up some small random fact at a socially awkward moment. Point is, I felt much better about the whole thing now, and had switched from paranoid hypochondriac moron, to information gathering mode. I asked if we were using amalgam or ceramic? What wavelength was the UV-light thing on to harden the filling? Could I get the Bling-package if I paid extra and get a diamond in my teeth instead of silver?
The problem, as I think about it and hindsight being 20/20, is that it sounds more “I’m hunting for a lawsuit you quack” than “hey I’m a zany idiot who likes little random tidbits of knowledge”. The doctor was EXCEEDINGLY patient. Far more than I would be with someone asking me about computers over my shoulder (of course, I also wouldn’t have my hand down that persons mouth. Or….) but at some point, and I’m not saying this co-incided with me babbling on though the timing seems suspect, he put a needle in my gums, making the entire left side of my face numb and making talking all but impossible. Just for the record, doc, I really did have a fascination with what was going on.

The procedure was filling two cavities, and was done in a little under an hour. I was thoroughly impressed. SO impressed, I went out and bought 4-pounds of candy and don’t plan to brush until Lent next year. I thank the great team at Dr Elkford (Elkington?) offices for the fine job they did.

I left fairly happy, with my face still convoluted. I was told to try not eating anything as people tend to make hamburger out of their tongues. Good advice. The freezing took about 4-hours to completely wear off, so I had some towels around my keyboard when I arrived home. I did attempt to drink some water, but that ended up looking like incontinence on my pants more than a refreshing imbibement.

I must say, if you’ve never had the freezing sensation, I recommend it. Even just once. Its a little portal to your past AND future. Sitting around, drooling uncontrollably, with a giant wet spot on the front of your pants. Who says dentists don’t have a sense of humour?