I was in a dentist’s chair for two hours yesterday. TWO HOURS! It wasn’t all bad. The first half hour he did numbing that didn’t hurt. (Remember when the Novocaine shot was more painful than the drilling? Or so it seemed.)
The next half hour required getting a backhoe into my mouth for major excavation. I wondered if they were putting a pond in there. I swear I heard the beeps when it was in reverse. I was naming the fish.
After the backhoe came the jack hammer. Then lots of goo. Pink good. Purple goo. Goo galore.
Technically this procedure was elective. I didn’t have to have this done now but my old dental work had been chipping. It took two years and a really bad chip before I made the appointment. I thought it best to have it done now. I can get some good years out of it before my teeth go to the grave. The worst would be to have an uncomfortable procedure the week before you die.
While I am sitting in the chair all kinds of weird things go through my head. Why would someone be a dentist instead of a brain surgeon? The brain isn’t that far from the teeth but it has no spit. Some teeth injections I’ve had seem to go up through my brain and out the top of my head. (My “now” dentist somehow doesn’t let me see the needle. I’m good with that.)
Personally I find putting my hands in anyone’s mouth (including my own) disgusting. (There will be no commentary on how a person can clean litter boxes and get urine samples from an uncooperative cat but freaks out with people spit.)
I was so numb that I was sure my lips looked like a Kardashian. The dental tech gave me a mirror because I didn’t believe her. How can they feel so big but look so little? I checked my boobs too. Nope, definitely not a Kardashian.
When the lips are numb you don’t have control of your own fluids. During a swish out of toxic waste fragments clinging to my delicate membranes, I overshot the spit receptacle and hit the tech’s sneakers. Oops. What to do, what to do? We’re not even on first name basis and I’m trying to swap spit.
I did exactly what I did in grade school when smelly gas escaped my sweet butt. I pretended I didn’t do it. She pretended I didn’t do it either and neither wiped her sneaker or commented. I’m pretty sure she threw them in the trash when she got home.
I have a lot of respect for dentists. They rank up there with butt doctors (another profession I can’t figure out why anyone would want to do!).
Today my mouth is sore (but not sore enough to shut up). I have three weeks to recover before I go in for the final appointment. After that I will be ready for toothpaste commercials except for my skinny lips.