We Won't Need to Visit the Dentist In Heaven

Sooner or later those 40-year-old fillings give out.

Such was the case for Ma, this August. Bonus points for another cavity, making Thursday's dental excursion even more efficient.

Never before have I packed so much fun into one summer!

The one thing I looked forward to--if it could be called that--was the chance to put on the office earphones and insert my opera CD into their portable player. It helps to mentally and physically tune out all the...noise.

"Oh, that's not working right now."

"Seriously?"

"We're sorry."

"I brought Andrea Bocelli along for nothing..."

The first order of business is the numbing gel, followed closely by the numbing shot.

The latter is always interesting because Dr. G. is very good at hiding the syringe so you don't see it coming. This is helped by the fact that they've taken off my glasses so I can't ANYTHING, except for the 20,000 watt Klieg lights pointing directly into my retinas.

But getting back to the shot, our dentist is quite adept. It hardly even feels like the needle is being inserted into your jaw-bone. And that stuff kicks right in; as evidenced by immediate loss of feeling in half my nose (one of the advantages of work in the front of the mouth).

Once the drugs kick in it's time to start the drilling.

Today's newer equipment has the advantage of a built in water spray that operates simultaneously with the drill. This is very helpful in the event of sudden gushing of blood or those pesky tooth fragments whizzing about.

Of course there are different drill bits. Some are like heavy jack-hammers, grinding away with that, "You may feel some vibrations with this..." ambiance.

Probably where the Beach Boys found inspiration for one of their songs.

Then there is the finer drill; you know...with the alluring high-pitched whine that brings to mind a very small cat having its tail pulled. For a really long time.

You might think there could be no humor in an experience such as this; and basically you would be right. Except, I could hear the piped-in music. When Kelly Clarkson start belting out What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger I just about lost it. I wonder if they detected I was fighting back laughter or just assumed it was the regular gagging they get from patients...

I will say this; it's a swell finger-tapping tune to listen to while having your mouth maimed.

Often, getting one's cavities filled involves a new contraption that is placed over the mouth. I think it's suppose to make it easier for the dentist to isolate and work on particular spots. And while I can't prove that it's made from a coat hanger and old, stretched-out balloons, that's roughly what it looks like. It gets clamped onto your gum and teeth in places which surprisingly enough, do not always involve the previously numbed tissues.

After that comes the packing in of filling material and the sandpapering. Of course, they don't use real sandpaper but rather, three-inch long strips that are so narrow one could never distinguish the 3M logo on the back anyway...I mean if it were there. Which it isn't.

Probably.

But rest assured I did survive the experience, which was followed by a trip to the meat counter at the grocery store. It was there that I and my benumbed mouth plied the butcher with questions concerning grilling chicken. He was very helpful and nice.

I think they make more of an effort with customers who look like they've had a stroke.

Then it was the simple matter of staying awake for the 25-minute drive home. I arrived just in time for my pre-noon  walk on the treadmill.

Lunch was soft food and questioning looks from the kids, ("Has Mommy had a stroke?").

Today my mouth is still sore but sooner or later that will go away.

Just not as fast as this summer.

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