Before I start this, let me say first that I’m not the type that’s ever been scared by a dentist visit. It’s been laziness and nothing damn wrongness that’s kept me out of the chair since 2001 according to the records. I’d been getting a few minor aches here and there these last couple of months, but nothing too bad. I’d needed to floss occasionally as things seemed to get caught more easily. I casually booked in before our holidays this weekend because I didn’t want any trouble whilst we were away.
What started this afternoon as a quick checkup and cleanup rapidly moved to a “let’s just remove your wisdom tooth now – we have 5 minutes”-session. I was amazed at the rapid diagnosis and willingness to move to action. I wasn’t really prepared for it as I’d never had a tooth removed before – don’t they just use fillings to plug holes nowdays? After an x-ray, I agreed to it, on the proviso that I didn’t delay the next patient, as I’d rudely turned up 15 mins late and was already past the 30 minutes they’d allocated for me. He reassured me that it was the easiest tooth of all to take out. 2 minutes.
15 minutes later he was sweating, I was sweating, the corners of my mouth had been smeared with vaseline at my request, and they’d wrapped the surgical pliers in a cloth because he’d worn the corner of my mouth out with his gyrations. First it split in half, so they had less grip after that, they tried levering and rocking and I was half expecting the strong man to walk in the door and take over from my short, slender dentist, when it finally gave way – the dentist yelping in happiness.
Once it had been extracted, he candidly called it a 10. 10 for the worst wisdom tooth he’d ever had to remove. He showed me how the 4 roots grew like tree roots outwards instead of into a single tap-root. He asked me to take a few Panadols and bite down on a wad of cotton that made me want to retch after awhile. I could only handle it for 10 minutes before spitting it out.
6 hours later, I’m on the Panadols and a little pill called Tramadol (thanks Kim) because I’ve got a hell of an ache going on all the way up to my eye socket. And I can still feel the bastard, even though my mind is mushy from the pills! Apart from sterile conditions and good anaesthetics, I doubt dentistry has changed a lot since 1416 when barbers stopped providing teeth services for patrons.
Hope I’m ok for work tommorrow.
That post was a lot more lucid than I was expecting.
I completely sympathise with you. If you look at the tools they use to pull a tooth it’s as if they pulled out the toolbox that was in the back shed.
I hate to sound pessimistic, which I have trouble not doing, but the quick diagnosis was probably motivated by money and the fear that you might go to someone else.
Also, I sweat like a pig every time I visit the dentist – even when they inject me with all kinds of numbness. It might actually be the injection which fills me with fear actually…