Bite Down

I had the distinct pleasure of going to see my dentist this past week. And by “distinct pleasure” I mean it was decidely more fun than having to endure waiting on the nice, middle-aged man at the grocery store who can’t use the self check-out line without the assistance of a fully-licensed, journeyman Bag Boy. But that’s beside the point. I went to see the dentist because of pain in a tooth I had filled years ago.

Just to let you know what I’ve been feeling lately, try to imagine to most intense pain you’ve ever felt in your life. Perhaps the throbbing of your big toe after you stubbed it walking across the concrete deck of the community pool. Or perhaps the pain caused by a fermenting suppository in the minutes leading up to full evacuation.

Got a good picture in your mind? Good. Now forget about it. We just did that exercise for fun!

No, my pain wasn’t nearly at suppository evacuation level, but it was uncomfortable enough that I figured I’d better go spend half a year’s pay to have the dentist look at me and say, “You have a toothache.” Without his wisdom and knowledge I’d have no way of identifying the sensation pulsating from the upper-right portion of my oral cavity. I might have assumed the problem was my brain trying to numb itself upon learning Selena and the Biebs broke up, and America actually cares! By the way, “Selena and the Biebs” would make a phat name for a band if it weren’t for the fact that one Biebs is one too many for the music industry.

Speaking of the dentist, there I sat — in the ergonomically challenged exam room chair — watching TV and waiting for the torture to begin. Suddenly the screen came alive with, and I am not making this up, a group of opera singers on a public city bus, all singing about how they “need cash now.” Probably so they can actually afford to buy cars where they can sing their opera songs in private. Either that or they want to pool their resources and buy a bigger bus!

As I’m watching this slightly amusing commercial I spot, out of the corner of my eye, a young lady in purple-ish scrubs coming down the hall with the intensity of suppository evacuation all over her face. She didn’t head for the ladies room friends, she made a bee-line for me.

With absolutely no warning this crazy-eyed, but hygienic, dental office Barney rammed a large-ish device into my mouth and said, “Bite down.” It all happened so fast I could not identify the size or shape of said dental device. For all I know it could have been a King Size Tootsie Roll this lady was trying to hide from the boss.

I can tell you this much, the Tooth Fairy she was not. Dental Office Barney proceded to try and take x-rays of my teeth; I say “try” because the first time she pulled the trigger it didn’t work. So she pulled it again…and again..and yet again. Meanwhile the saliva in my mouth was starting to build and I’m realizing this thing in my mouth is about to suffer serious water displacement. Ms. Barney said to me, and I quote, “Hold on just on minute, I’m going to get help.”

Help? Help? I have a gallon-and-a-half of spittle collecting in my mouth and it’s about to overrun the dam, if you know what I mean. By the time purple lady returned with a male-type person I was doing my best impression of a geriatric patient making mumbling sounds while a steady stream of drool rolled down my chin.

How does this help? Well, I’ll tell you. The male-type person — whom I could not identify as either a dental hygienist or the janitor — said, and again I quote, “Try pulling out the card and putting it back in.” Remember now, this is supposed to be a highly advanced medical facility, not a computer lab at the local high school.

What’s next? Is the dentist gonna appear and smack the x-ray machine like Fonzie and the jukebox? Perhaps a little duct tape would be in order? Maybe if my next hygienist is Greek there will be some Windex involved! All I know is my mouth was throbbing and I have visions of Windows crashing while I’m stuck with a probe in my mouth and rapidly approaching “gag me” stage. If I can’t hold it back, this sucker’s gonna blow.

Fortunately the hygienist/janitor’s idea worked and Ms. Barney got her shots. She offered me a 10×8 glossy and as many free wallets as I wanted. As for my tooth, let’s just say an extraction is in my future. I sure hope it’s easier than a suppository evacuation!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *