Strange Brouhaha

Thursday, January 27, 2005

I'll tell, I'LL TELL!

I took the day off today to go to the dentist for the first time in...well, I don't know the actual number of years it's been, but ten is probably pretty close to the mark. The dentist was a really, really nice guy. His office is really nice. I just want to get that said up front so that you know.

Ten years is a long time to go between visits to the dentist. It is, in fact, an unreasonably long time, and if you haven't been, I highly advise you to go. As I was sitting there, whining inside my head and trying very hard not to think of "Marathon Man," occasionally rinsing mouthfuls of blood away and dabbing blood from my lips, I vowed to myself never to go this long between visits to the dentist. Seriously, I was ready to tell him anything he wanted to know. (Did I mention he was really nice? This was actually one of the better dentist visits I've had in my life.)

It put me in mind of the time I got my wisdom teeth out, about 15 years ago. On one of them, the dentist pulled and pulled and pulled. Then he stopped pulling. "This is a hard one," he said. He braced his foot on the chair and pulled some more. Then he said the word that nobody ever wants to hear from a dentist:


I don't even remember what the "oops" was for. (Whaddaya mean, OOPS?) All I really remember about the rest of that was having to stay because they broke a drill in my mouth--they needed to x-ray the jar of spit they sucked out of my mouth to make sure that the bit wasn't floating around inside me somewhere. Oh yeah, I also remember being an idiot and not filling the prescription for the painkillers.

If you ever get your wisdom teeth out: Get. The. Painkillers.

That is all.


  • See, this is the downside of being as massive, awesome and unbreakable as my husband: they can't physically yank your wisdom teeth out, they break drill bits in your mouth, and even if he *had* filled the painkiller prescription, it wouldn't have worked all that well. Better than none, but not great.

    I, on the other hand, recall daintily going under (they took one look at me and said "we'll put her out") and then having gentle nurses hold my hand and tell me what day it was and bring me 7Up when, unable yet to speak, I gestured at my throat. It was kind of unpleasant being swollen up like a balloon and unable to open my mouth wide enough to actually eat anything for several days, but it was on the whole an immensely civilized experience. Sometimes it pays to be "just a little bit of a thing," as a nurse once called me.

    By Blogger Savannah, at 7:17 PM  

  • (Josh) Actual spit sink? The dentist I've been going to here for the last 7 or 8 years doesn't have one; just suction. I hate it. It gets the goop out, but does nothing to relieve the impulse to swallow, and you can't give a really good swish. In her defense, though, my doctor is a year or two younger than me and cute. That makes up for a lot.

    I brush my teeth every damn day and I still get a fucking cavity every year or two. I was getting one filled last month, and once they drilled it out, they saw another one. And I got my first crown last year. That sucked. Still, my dad lost all his teeth by the time he was in his early 30s. Some of my earliest memories of him are him taking out his plates and goofing with them. At least my kid will get to see me with my choppers (relatively) intact.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 11:24 PM  

  • (Josh) Oh, and Penny has never had a cavity, of course. Having a dental hygienist for a mom may be a factor.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 1:38 PM  

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