Unhappy Heather's trip to the dentist (x3)

Since I’m moving up to Kelowna, I’ve been tying up some loose ends here. One of those included booking an appointment at the dentist.
I’d been feeling like I had a cavity and it had been awhile, so I went on Monday this week. Let me first preface this by saying that I am a fastidious tooth brusher. I brush my teeth about three times a day, and boy, do I ever scrub them. I rinse my mouth out after drinking coke or coffee and I chew gum all the time (which, by the way, prevents cavities). I realized it had been too long since I was at the dentist when the bristles of my toothbrush started coming off in my mouth.
I lay back in the dentist’s chair while they made small talk (just like hairdressers- it must be a required part of the job description). They took a couple of X-rays and then the dentist held them up to me.
“You have 4 cavities.” He said. “And your teeth need cleaning. And you have serious gum recession that is unusual in a person so young.”
“Can you fix it all?” I asked hopefully.
He laughed. “Well, we can fix the cavities. As for the gum recession, if it doesn’t get better within 6 months, we’ll have to take a skin graft from the roof of your mouth and put it on your lower gum.”
I’d never even heard of gum recession before.
“I brush my teeth all the time.” I told him. (Okay, so maybe I’m not so good at flossing, but seriously, who is?)
“It can be caused by brushing too hard.” He said, “Or not brushing enough. There’s sort of a fine balance. But it is compounded by the fact that you have a type of saliva that is more prone to get cavities, and no matter how much you brush, you can’t really prevent them.”
I knew of course that my problem was brushing too hard. And all this time I was concerned about having white teeth.
So he froze my bottom jaw and then the hygienist applied that horrible instrument of torture called the rubber dam. I tried to be brave but it hurt going in and then she stuck a wedge between my other jaw and asked me how I was feeling.
“I feel like I have a basketball in my mouth.” I said to her, but I think it came out more like “Gurbledy gurp.”
They drilled away. I stared at the ceiling and at the sharp shiny things going in my mouth out of the corner of my eye, and tried to think relaxing thoughts, like pretending I was lying on the beach in Antigua again.
Then they finished the filling, but Oh Joy! There was more. The hygienist took out the rubber dam and wiped the humiliating saliva that was drooling all over my face, and the dentist froze my upper jaw, and then the hygienist put in ANOTHER rubber dam on the top.
“Does that feel all right?” She asked.
“Please can you suction the saliva that is running down the back of my throat and choking me?” I asked. Gurbledy gurbledy gurp.
Then the drill again. I thought about my poor little sister Hannah who can’t have dental work done the conventional way- she has to go under general anesthetic and at the very moment I was lying in the comfortable chair, she was being intubated at Children’s hospital. Some people’s crosses are heavier to bear…. I didn’t feel like whining.
They finished the second filling and then the dentist told me to come back later in the afternoon for another couple of hours, I had been lucky enough to get a spot right away. Might as well get it all over with, I thought.
I had some errands to run and at the bank I used sign language and at the store I smiled with half my mouth and pretended I had Bell’s palsy or something. The cashier responded well to the sad look in my eyes.
Back at the dentist I got into the reclining chair and decided it wasn’t my favorite place to be. There was a different hygienist this time; and she wasn’t quite as intuitive to my pain threshold. She cleaned my teeth with something that felt like a wire brush digging into my gums. Because of my gum recession problem, the tooth roots on two of my teeth are exposed and exquisitely painful. I begged her to give me some freezing but nothing seemed to cut the pain.
“You’re quite a sensitive girl, aren’t you?” She asked, accidentally spraying water in my nose. I stared at the ceiling and thought happy thoughts.
They told me I was lucky enough to get an appointment the next day, too. Back at home I sipped tea and felt a little sorry for myself.
Today I went back to the dentist again for my third dose of punishment, on the other side of my mouth. I feel like all I’ve been doing is hanging out in that quiet office with the whirring drills and polite small talk. The hygienist led me to the torture chair and removed my personal affects. She tilted the chair so I was slanted upside down and told me to open my mouth. My jaw was still stiff from the day before but I did the best I could. Another needle. She started to put the rubber dam in again and I had it with politeness and happy thoughts.
“It hurts.” I said. Gurbledy gurp.
“It’s not too bad?” She asked.
“No, it hurts!” I said. Gurbledy gurp. “I don’t think I’m frozen yet.”
Another needle.
“I’ll put it in first, then adjust it.” She said.
I glared at her, and then the ceiling. And I made pained noises at every single tooth she touched. She went out and left me for a while to let the freezing take effect. I sat there alone for what seemed an eternity. This is not fun. I hate the dentist. I could see my reflection in a mirror in the corner of the room and my face looked like a garish skeleton with a rubber mouth and large tacky sunglasses. How would you feel, Miss hygienist, if someone stuck a rubber dam in your mouth?
The dentist came in and started doing the filling. My neck was cramping and I tried to move a bit. He hit a nerve root and I moaned.
That filling done, the hygienist took out the rubber dam.
“I’m going to put Dura-seal on your teeth next.” She told me. “Try not to touch it.”
She told me to open my mouth wider and she painted something on my teeth and started drying it with cold air. Cold air, just like cold water, causes excruciating pain on the tooth roots, I don’t know why she didn’t know that, but I let her know with loud, pained moans.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“It hurts a lot!” I said. Gurbedly gurp.
“Oh, I’m just putting air on them to dry it.” She said.
“I know you are,” I said, “But it is extremely painful.” Gurble gurp gurble.
My sense of humor had evaporated with my sense of longsuffering. The Dura-seal seemed to take forever.
And then the dentist came back in and froze my mouth again. And I kid you not, the hygienist put in ANOTHER rubber dam.
I pushed her away.
“I need more freezing.” I told her.
“The Dr. just gave you some.” She said.
“I know, but I can feel everything. I need some more.”
He put in another syringe-full of novocaine and then the rubber dam went in. This time I think the freezing went right to my head. I began to get dozy. Or maybe it was the whirring sound. Or maybe slanted upside down, all the blood was rushing to my head and I was passing out.
I awoke from garbled and confusing dreams to find the hygienist snapping the rubber dam out. I was in too much of a stupor to care and the dentist wiped the drool and blood off my face. He inserted a piece of blue paper in my mouth (to check tooth surfaces) and told me to bite down. I did.
“Grind from side to side.” He told me.
I did. He took the paper out.
“Hmmm…. Try again.”
I bit down, and ground side to side as hard as I could. He removed the paper again and looked puzzled.
“Dr.,” the hygienist said, “I think she was biting her tongue, not the paper.”
Yes, I must have been biting that thick numb thing that didn’t belong in my mouth.
They ground some more and painted and then the hygienist told me I could go but I felt unsteady on my feet after so many hours lying upside down. I went out the door and I couldn’t even say thank you or goodbye.
The freezing has all come out now, and I’m wondering which quadrant of my mouth hurts the most. Or maybe my tongue. Or maybe my neck, it’s hard to tell. I wonder why it costs so much to spend several hours being tortured by a smiling person in a white coat. I wonder if it would be better just to get dentures. Then I could greet people at the door with them sideways in my mouth. Or I could take them out at night, pop them into a glass by my bed, roll over and say to my honey, “Sweet dweams, deaw” and smile with a lovely toothless smile. Yes, I might just ask them to pull them all out.