Sorry, I know. That was gross. Very gross. Yet an unavoidable happenstance after a visit to the dentist. A lengthy visit as it turns out.
I've know for a few weeks that this day was inevitable. Flossing is boring but I am feeling the necessity of it at the moment. I may be turning over a new leaf, once I can feel my face again that is.
Getting a filling isn't too bad really, in comparison to say, getting a tooth pulled. Yeah, that's right, getting a tooth pulled. My other option was a root canal and I decided that since the offending tooth was in the top, way in the back where I don't think I even chew, pulling it was the better choice. Cheaper too in case you were wondering. I wondered how today would go but I didn't really worry about it which rather surprised me. I was fine until I got there and was seated in the chair, a pink bib clipped around my neck. Then anxiety began to creep in, making my jaw quiver at the most inopportune times and making my hands ice-cold.
I tried to relax. I folded my hands neatly together across my lap hoping it didn't look too much like I was posing for my own funeral. (Yes, I really thought that.) I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the movie playing just for me on the ceiling. Mr Smith goes to Washington. I love Jimmy Stewart but it is a little hard to feel patriotic when there are wire thingies screwed on your teeth and sticking out of your mouth and you can't feel your lips to know if they look normal or if they are dry and tucked inward in an awkward fashion, not to mention that whenever you look up at the screen you are also looking up at the dentist and you kinda have to ignore that weird closeness as his hands are in your mouth and he is peering to see what's going on.
Relax. Humph.
Everything was moving along nicely, other than the feeling of water droplets in my throat that I wanted to swallow but couldn't. Ever try swallowing with your mouth gaping open? I am not saying it is impossible, but well, you try. I began to enjoy the movie, almost laughing when Mr. Smith jumps up in the Senate with a very loud outburst of "MR. PRESIDENT", but I knew, I knew what was coming. Dr. Williams was saving the worst for last. And then, he paused the movie and asked if it was okay if he prayed before extracting the tooth.
I said, "Yes." Inside I was saying, "yes, yes, yes, pray, pray, pray!!!!" to the beat of my wildly pounding heart. (Besides that though, think about it, a dentist that prays with you…wow.)
I'll not go into detail about how it's done, but I will say that I did always wonder how it was done. I thought about the old days and how they offered the victim some strong whiskey. I considered asking for some but I figured as numb as my lips and cheeks were that it would all either just run out or I would choke. I will say that it takes a lot of tugging and pulling and when you hear it, ugh.
After it was done, Dr. Williams said that I was a trooper and I did really well and that for an extraction, "it was one of the tougher ones". Nice to know my teeth are so firmly rooted I suppose. After patting myself on the back for doing so well, I sat up.
And nearly fainted.
I felt just a little hot, then a whole lot hot and the ringing I heard was not from the movie. I was promptly told to lie back down and there I stayed until Leo came to pick me up. Whoever says nurses are tough never met this one. I may have looked the shade the notebook paper with a tinge of green.
And now I sit here, propped up in my bed watching Road To Avonlea. As I finally finish writing this, my stomach is growling but I am a little afraid to eat, mashed potatoes or not. I had Adrienne bring me an ice-pack and I think maybe I like the numbness better.
Oh, and if you've ever seen the end of Mr. Smith goes to Washington, don't tell me. I never got to finish it. Maybe I'll save it for the next time I go to the dentist.
In 53 years.
Love, Dianne
