Some people consider going to the dentist to be the most traumatic experience of their life. While I cannot wholly agree, I can definitely relate. I had a dentist appointment today, and I may have a touch of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result. When I was little, I had, like, 9 cavities (I blame my parents completely, as I had nothing but junk in my school lunch everyday. I
begged for salads, hummus and rice cakes, and what did I get? Chips, chocolate bars, pop and suckers.) Anyway, each time a cavity was filled I got a prize from the prize drawer. Turns out that doesn’t happen when you’re an adult…there’s a needle, shooting pain, horrid sounds, and protective glasses to ensure a tooth fragment doesn’t impale your eyeball. Oh…and a bill. A large bill. My mouth, 15 hours later, can still feel the effects of the needling and the drilling. An unpleasant experience in reality, but such experiences make for superb stories. I shall tell the tale in the 3
rd person.
Hillary used to be a well-organized person, punctual and aware of life’s appointments. She obediently visited the optometrist when the optometrist needed to be visited, and faithfully saw the dentist when the dentist needed to be seen…or she’d at least think about going to the dentist after getting a comical postcard reminder in the mail. All this looking-after-self health stuff got shoved under the carpet when university life swept into the scene. (In reflection, I see all that “Hillary is organized and punctual” mumbo-jumbo was actually my mother doing what mothers do, and looking after the details of her children’s health.) Three years into university, Hillary finally decided to be “proactive” and get her teeth checked out. All this commendable proactivity resulted in 3 cavities, a prospective bill of $375, and the harsh reality of miscalculating the amount of my dental benefits (which ended up being non-existent).
Why did Hillary book her appointment at 8am? Why? Tired and groggy, she snaked her way down the icy sidewalks on her bike rather perturbed that the weather had to bring freezing rain the night before her “minor surgery.” Reaching the building, she locked up her bike and entered into the matrix of offices, hallways, elevators and doors leading to mysteries of the unknown. The portal to Northland Dental Care was simply labeled “Door 308.” So unobtrusive; so innocent. The door was locked.
Hillary was early, so she loitered awkwardly in the hall until a small Asian woman dressing in pink scrubs hurried by like the hare in Alice and Wonderland. The resemblance to Lewis Carroll’s classic was uncanny, though the scrubs-wearing woman was not vocally proclaiming, “I’m late! I’m late!” (Let’s face it; that’s what she was thinking when she caught a glimpse of the gorgeous brunette with a stunningly white smile standing in the hallway). Anyway, this woman urged Hillary to step into the Dental office. To borrow a saying, this was the beginning of a series of unfortunate events.
Hillary crossed the threshold into a white-washed world of molars, Sensodyne, pearly whites and sterile dental workers. An eerie instrumental tune floated into the room from some unseen place. The little woman beckoned the rather apprehensive patient (still advertising the stunningly white smile, though with nervous undertones) to the Chair. The Orb of Light appeared as she lay down; this glow that didn’t hurt her eyes that the strange man in the white jacket controlled and maneuvered to suit his viewing needs. The Dentist was a young Asian man, clean-cut and prim and probably sterile (but only in the present, physical application of the word. To be sterile in such a way is to be “free from living germs or microorganisms”—something every health care provider should strive for.) He had nice teeth…or did he? Hillary couldn’t see any of his molars or canines due to the white mask that protected this professional from infection. Incidentally, the mask also protected the man from actually having to talk to his patient. He handed her a pair of plastic glasses to shield her own orbs of beauty from the drills, the geysers of water, and the occasion tooth fragment. This was all rather strange.
“You’ll feel a little pinch” the Dentist murmured aimlessly as he jabbed the needle into his patient’s gums. Hillary could have slugged the guy had she not been in such a precarious situation involving sharp biohazardous syringes. There were about 5 jabs for one side of freezing, each one causing serious panic, discomfort and shallow breathing. Hillary’s knuckles were whiter than her teeth as they clutched the arm of the Chair. Tears came to her eyes, but still she sat still. The needle was gone, but the pain remained. An odd tingling sensation was permeating her buccal fat pad and tongue. The small pink-scrubs woman swiveled into view and produced a green rubber sheet and what looked like a pair of pliers. She proceeded to transform Hillary’s mouth into a surgical field, cranking open the jaw and expertly positioning the rubber so only the back molar was exposed. Hillary found this technique of dentistry excessively particular, but decided it was best to be careful when it comes to bacteria and teeth. With the sterile field established, the Dentist loomed overhead.
Such sounds! Vrrrrrr! Reeee! Bang! Erg! Arg! Water spritzed up and landed on her protective glasses. Her jaw ached from the demands of the procedure. Her head struggled to remain still while the Dentist drilled and heated and clamped and extracted Heaven knows what. Two down, one to go. Of course, Hillary’s 3rd and final cavity was on the other side of her mouth, so the freezing needle was needed yet again.
“You’ll feel a little pinch.” The Dentist mumbled yet again. Hillary felt a pinch…but this pinch quickly progressed to a feeling of stabbing pains up through her Left Facial Nerve. Her leg started kicking in an expression of pain; her knuckles tightened around the arm of the chair past the point of circulation. Her eyes gazed up at the Dentist, pleading for relief, but he took no notice. The needling ended, and her mouth was frozen on the right side and half-frozen, half-screaming on the left. She couldn’t decide if her mouth was open or closed, smiling or frowning. Hillary touched her lip and experienced the fantastical sensation of feeling only her hand’s warmth on a mass of foreign, unfeeling skin. It felt like she was drowning. The green rubber sheet descended on her once again and was secured in place thanks to the skills of Pink Scrubs, and the Dentist settled in to work on the 3rd cavity. Hillary felt like she was in a movie theater watching a movie; two masked figures bent over her sterile-field of an oral cavity, humming and hawing, tapping and scraping. The Dentist kept asking for things like “suction” and “the Etch” and some weird hair-dryer type thing that either warmed up Hillary’s tooth for the filling or killed all those bacteria lurking in the dark, dank and dreary depths of her mouth. She tried to distract herself from the pain by staring at the Orb of Light glimmering with ethereal beauty…
It was finished.
Hillary removed the protective glasses, thanked the sterile dental workers, staggered to the coat hangers for her belongings, and collapsed into a chair in a wave of exhaustion, nausea and dizziness. She snuck a look at herself in the mirror while Pink Scrubs gathered paperwork and noted that her left lip drooped, her lips were drier than the Sahara, and she couldn’t see any shiny metal caps on her teeth. “What’s this?” she thought. “Invisible cavity fillings? Bonus! Now…which ones actually ARE the cavities?” Try as she might, she could not distinguish her new cavity top from her healthy teeth. For all she knew, the Dentist hadn’t filled any cavity at all! Pink Scrubs processed her payment of $375, and reminded Hillary to refrain from eating until the numbness wore off. This was the icing on the cake; no food for Hillary for 3 hours was like asking a cat not to bath itself. She had to get out of this white-washed wonderland. With one last look around and one smarting throb of her Facial Nerve she exited out through Door 308 into Reality, praying that the portal behind her would be sealed off forever…or at least until the postcard reminder came in the mail.
