Tooth Or Consequences

At some point when I was about 11 years or so old (I'm not sure exactly when, but I know it was while I was still living in Michigan), I went in for a scheduled dental checkup and was told afterward that I had four cavities and I had to set up an appointment to get them all filled.

At that time, this news didn't fill me with any terror or dread at all: I had been going to this dentist for years and never had any problems with the experience (though I suppose having my teeth sandblasted every six months to a year with what tasted like very flat dried orange Sunkist wasn't exactly high on my list of Favorite Things in life). While I was a tad bit surprised that I had let myself get a cavity for the first time in my life (let alone four), I was also a bit curious as to how this procedure was going to go.

My follow-up visit was probably one of the formative events of my life, and not in a pleasant way. What happened, in short, was that I had my four cavities professionally drilled and filled without any painkillers. At all.

I don't remember how long it took to get all four teeth done. I suppose it couldn't have taken more than an hour, though it felt at the time like it was never going to end. I remember quite vividly hearing that high-pitched pneumatic whine for the first time, the fleeting, vaguely unsettling thought of "hey, uh, aren't I supposed to get some kind of anesthetic for this?" as my dentist leaned over me and shined that light directly into my face, and then the rapid downward shifting of the sound's pitch when the drill head contacted one of my breached molars. All I could was make odd "unnk" "nnnk "nnnng" noises at odd times while gripping the edges of the chair with white knuckles and feeling the occasional tear drip down the side of my face.

My obvious agony didn't earn me any sympathy points from my dentist. Instead, I was given stern admonitions to "sit still," "hang in there," "almost done" and a couple of other instructions to that effect. This dentist was never the friendliest codger in the world: if anything, he seemed a bit like a grouchier version of my grandfather in that they shared a no-nonsense kind of attitude. After that day, though ... let's just say that our relationship had changed drastically.

Life I said earlier, that day was a pretty life-changing event: from that point onwards, I have been scared out of my fucking mind of the dentist's office. Even almost entirely positive dental office experiences that followed (including one visit where I was blissfully stoned out of my entire being on nitrous and novocaine) failed to wipe out the psychic stain of that one visit. I've had three wisdom teeth out over the last 15 years, all of them with no complications or suffering whatsoever (save for the one time I waited a half hour too long to pop my first pain pill afterward -- hoo boy), yet during my most recent procedure about 5 years ago, I remember sitting alone in one of the exam rooms, reclined in the chair and visibly trembling in irrational fright during the few moments between my examination by the hygienist and the arrival of my current dentist.

With that in mind, you could probably imagine the feelings of "ohhh shit" that came to mind when I started feeling another tooth slipping into distress (as mentioned in this post). I'm not completely sure if this is the last of my wisdom teeth or a molar that's gone to Hell, and I've put this off for as long as I can, but it's becoming apparent that I am just about out of time: lack of funds and proximity to Turkey Day notwithstanding.

I do have a choice in the matter, which is at once reassuring and kinda scary. Sarah has informed me that the Free Clinic Of Greater Cleveland offers extraction services. The reassuring news in this is that said extraction would be absolutely free of charge. The bad news is that I'd have to drive into Cleveland proper to get this taken care of, and the "you get what you pay for" part of my brain is gibbering insanely at the idea that "free" must somehow mean "no painkillers" or worse (whatever "worse" might be). Yes, I realize this is likely foolishness brought on my fear, but that's my brain for ya.

That said, I think I will see if I can arrange a Monday appointment at this Free Clinic place and we'll see how this goes. If that won't fly, I will try to get an appointment from my "regular" (read: the last guy I saw 5 years ago) dentist instead. Time is of the essence, here: I want this taken care of immediately, since I am already sorely regretting waiting this long (no pun intended, honest), and I'd very much like to be able to eat myself into a turkey coma on Thursday.