Confession: Until my most recent visit to the dentist in January, I had lived a cavity-free existence.
The dentist tried to make me feel better about one of the fillings I was slated for, because he has the same one. When I told my mother about this she put him on The List because, why would you encourage such behavior? Cavities are basically personal failings. There is no room for mercy.
So I went ahead and scheduled an appointment for the Day After Valentine’s Day, because why not go back to the dentist, the day after you have eaten the most sugar ever? I feel like the Valentine’s Day treats were a good opportunity for me to pour one out for my teeth, if anything.
When I got there, I was sort of on the verge of nervous tears/sort of not because why did this have to happen to me now? I had such a good streak going. So I hung up my coat and asked the Dental Assistant how all of this was going to go down because it was my first time and she gave me a sort of confused look because DUH YOU ARE AN ADULT.
But once that expression left her face, we proceeded straight into accidental attempted strangulation with the sanitary bib because it’s not physically possible to place one of those over/around a crocheted infinity scarf without choking to death. But bless her heart for trying to allow my accessories to stay intact.
Once we removed the offending scarf, it was time to get started. Very ominous, I know.
Anyway, I got the laughing gas and the music in addition to the novocain because why would you want to be fully lucid for any of this? Billy’s response to this was that he had not experienced the gas since he was like 8 years old. We can’t all be heroes, Bill.
I feel like we have to talk about the gas, only because it is a well-known fact that in life I have a three drink limit and I assumed that this sort of situation would probably go the same way. So when they started me at a 50-50 mix, it only took me three minutes to declare that I couldn’t feel my feet, I was feeling pretty hammered and by the way we should probably dial it down a little bit.
I will be honest, the only way I could keep track of time was by the music I was listening to. Hysterically, every time the dentist tried to talk to me, I would turn up the volume of the music because I don’t know, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Based on this experience alone, I am fairly certain that there is only the finest of lines between getting a tooth drilled and going out. 26-year-old me is fine with either option, really.
And then there was the Open Wide Incident of 2014. While I was busy inhaling gas and the dentist was busy drilling, I was basically in outer space, right? So when he said, open wider, instead of going an inch, I went the whole extra mile and channeled A Python. Because I was going to be The Best Patient In The History Of Patients Who Have Ever Had Dental Work Done. This is just the completely non-lucid truth.
That was all right and good until I woke up from my afternoon nap and realized that my mouth will never open the same way again.
This is to say nothing of the fact that my eyelid was somewhat numb for two hours following the procedure. Can’t say that I saw that one coming, so we’ll just file it under Party Favors.
Have you had any ridiculous experiences at the dentist?