Source: makeagif
I don’t mind going to the dentist. Oh no. I hate going to the dentist. This is in spite of all the hygienists, and, for that matter, all the dentists I’ve ever dealt with being really nice people who make me feel guilty for laughing so hard at Little Shop Of Horrors—both versions—but then I start thinking about what led them into dentistry as a profession and I stop feeling guilty and start getting worried. I’m always uncomfortable with visits to the doctor, and the gray walls and sterile exam rooms and bland art don’t help, but most of the time the doctor gives me a quick exam, asks me how I feel, and that’s it. A dental appointment is always going to be long and drawn out and uncomfortable because there’s always got to be the scraping, the gouging, the hammering—that’s just the parking lot. Then I get into the dentist’s office and in the waiting room they’ve got a nice coffee maker with a dozen different flavored creamers and a big jar of chocolate chip cookies. I try not to be cynical—when the hygienist suggests the four-hundred dollar gum cleans I believe it’s because she believes it’s really needed, not because there’s a significant markup on it. At least at one time my dentist had pictures of hockey players on the walls of her office, because she was the official dentists of the Nashville hockey team, and I could distract myself by thinking about how their checkups must either be really long, because they’d had so many teeth knocked out, or really short, because they’d had so many teeth knocked out. But the coffee and chocolate chip cookies there in the waiting room just sit there taunting me. For weeks before a dental appointment I become even more conscious of my brushing, flossing, and general tooth care. I stop eating Oreos and drinking apple cider vinegar straight from the bottle. And I understand the importance of dental hygiene. It’s been pressed on me since I was a kid; my first grade teacher poured a Coke into a jar and then put a nail in it. A week later the nail had dissolved. I said, “That’s it, I’m never storing my nails in Coke ever again.”
At my last dental appointment the hygienist told me I was past due to have my teeth X-rayed. I said okay and she took about fifty-seven pictures. Then she said, “I’m a little concerned about your teeth.” I was too—my mouth had just been hit with more radiation than Chernobyl. But then she said I might need a root canal. Separately the words “root” and “canal” generally conjure up pleasant images in my mind, but put them together and I feel like I’ve just had an icicle driven through my heart.
“I know it’s probably unavoidable,” I said, “but it would be nice if during the procedure I could just be knocked unconscious with my mouth propped open.”
“Oh, we can definitely do that,” she said.
That is a relief. I won’t even ask how they plan to knock me out.
I’m with you, Chris. There are certain things that happen (medical, dental) that don’t require our needing to know how they achieve whatever goal they have in store for us. It’s best for everyone if we are just completely knocked out before any action takes place. I’ve had three medical procedures since June that’s required me to be knocked out. You know what? I don’t even know when it happens. One minute I’m alert and the next minute I’m waking up. Hopefully, I don’t have anymore procedures for at least the rest of the year. Before I was knocked out last Tuesday, I asked the anesthesiologist whether anesthesia can affect your strength and balance. Basically, the answer was “yes.” Along with that answer, she informed me that it isn’t good to have too much anesthesia. She didn’t go into any kind of explanation by what she meant, well…she might have, but I was probably already out cold by then. Hope all goes well for you, my friend! Mona
Mona, I also hope all your medical procedures are behind you now. I just had my doctor recommend a colonoscopy so I’ve got that ahead of me and also behind me. And I didn’t even think to ask about the effects of anesthesia. Before I go under in any medical procedure I like to ask the doctor if I’ll be able to play the piano when it’s over. If they say “yes” or “I don’t see why not” I reply, “Good, because I can’t now.”
I had to get my wisdom teeth out when I was 19. The dentist gave me laughing gas then got angry when I couldn’t stop laughing at the birthday balloons in the operating room. But WHY were there balloons in the operating room??!! I still think about it and laugh.
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How could you not laugh at birthday balloons in the operating room? Especially when he’d given you laughing gas. And laughing gas really can live up to its name. Funny enough I’ve only had one wisdom tooth removed. I guess I’m not very wise.
I’m feeling no pain now, Chris, after getting my teeth into this great post. I’m also thinking about how my wonderful dentist, who reads my blog every day, came to my concert on Saturday. Also, have you heard Robert Klein’s routine on going to the dentist? Classic.
I love Robert Klein’s comedy so much and even read his memoir, The Amorous Busboy of Decatur Avenue, and yet somehow I’ve missed his wonderful routine on going to the dentist. Thank you for that!
Dental visits can be such a mix of dread and humor! The paradox of scrupulously caring for teeth weeks before an appointment while eyeing the coffee and cookies in the waiting room is all too relatable. And the mental gymnastics around X-rays and potential root canals—it’s an experience so many of us share. At least there’s some comfort knowing there’s a bit of humor and, thankfully, modern options to make these appointments a bit more bearable!
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