Torture or medical treatment?

Yesterday I had my tooth ground down, the nerves filed out, and three large spikes driven into the roots. Oh yeah, and they applied a hot poker to the surface of my tooth. Three times.

No, the U.S. Government was not attempting to extract information on WMD’s from me in the basement of some off shore prison. I was at the dentist, getting my very first root canal. Shudder.

Actually, it wasn’t that bad. I won’t call it pleasant, as I had to hold my mouth open “really wide” for an hour, and it’s never fun to be drilled and soldered (yes, soldered). However, the procedure did not hurt, because the dentist gave me four shots of lidocaine. Bless him.

I was a little freaked out when he busted out the mini propane tank, fired it up, stuck his metal tool into it, and said in his charming Russian accent, “Don’t panic if you see smoke coming out of your mouth, I promise I won’t burn you.”
Ha, Ha, HA!

On the flip side he was a little taken aback when I informed him that his accent was comforting to me, as it vaguely resembled the accent of a close friend of mine. The fact that he sounded a little like my friend Sanjin made the procedure much less scary. I could close my eyes, and think about having drinks in his 16th Street condo with more ease than I otherwise could have.

Today, my tooth is sore but not horrible. It would be better if the baby would stop slamming the side of his immense and concrete-esque skull into my jaw. Kids always know when mommy is at a weak point, and that is usually when they turn it up. I am not sure how this is an evolutionary strength, but it has to serve some solid purpose, because every flu, surgery, early morning meeting, emergency filing, school paper, or whatever can be guaranteed to bring out the sick or the crazy in children. Ugh.

Of course, Otter has good reason to be cranky, his mouth hurts. He had another little tooth break through his gums last night, and he has a third that will be making its debut any moment now. I suppose it is kinda cute that we are both wandering around with sore gums this morning. Maybe I can cuddle up to his warm little baby body and comfort myself with shared suffering.

In the meantime, I am off to crochet more Yule gifts, as I am a whiz with the yarn this year.

One thought on “Torture or medical treatment?”

  1. EEK! I hate tooth stuff and am dreading the dentist visit I know I should go to.

    One day….

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