Dentistry is a skillful profession. Like any medical field it requires extensive knowledge and training, as well as a level of precision- and a level of sadism.
I have never enjoyed the dentist, probably due in part to the fact that my dental problems started relatively early. After losing my baby teeth, one of my back teeth grew in entirely missing enamel. Because we moved a lot we were constantly changing dentists who continually questioned what had been done to it and I was subjected to patch job after patch job until I was “old enough”, for which I was rewarded the joyless process of receiving a porcelain crown. None of my other problems have been so severe, but even though my father stressed dental hygiene like it was end-all-be-all I still had my fair share of cavities.
I am familiar with the filling process. There is the pre-numb gel. The probably-a-creation-of-Satan oral shots of Novocain. There is drilling I never really feel and then some cotton and some filling stuff and an extraterrestrial blue light that magically seals the tooth and then a little more drilling to make it even and lots and lots of saliva. It’s not fun but it’s usually doable. One tooth at a time. Except Tuesday I went to the dentist to receive three fillings. After I found out I would need three, I asked my very nice dentist what I was doing wrong to have multiple cavities and she told me that I was doing everything right. Turns out when you keep your wisdom teeth, like I have, they are prone to cavities. I don’t regret the decision to keep my wisdom teeth because fillings are usually cheaper and less painful than recovery after oral surgery. Usually
.The procedure started out fine. The office has televisions that hang above the chair to distract you and I put on Divorce Court because it was 11:30 on a Tuesday and there were few other options. The dentist, the hygienist, and I all laughed at the absurdity and then we were off to the races, the finish line being pain and misery. The pre-numb is never quite enough to dull the feeling of a needle deep inside your cheek. It is a profoundly disturbing and hard to describe pain that is meant to save you worst pain in the few minutes after. I have a pretty high pain tolerance. I sucked it up. Two cavities were on the left side of my mouth, my bottom wisdom tooth and the tooth after the next, so I got a total of about four shots on that side and two on the bottom right side for my second wisdom tooth. We waited a few minutes for the numbness to begin while listening to the couple on Divorce Court discuss the husband’s love of “booty” and the wife’s love of preachers. When the dentist felt I was numb enough, she tilted my head toward her and began to drill my wisdom tooth, and then quickly moved on to my next tooth which almost made me wish she had just pulled it out instead. After very few seconds of chaotic but comfortable drilling she pressed the drill to a spot on my tooth that made every nerve in my face twitch. My hands flexed, my feet crossed; I had never felt so sharp a pain in my life. She was moving quickly so I assumed that was it, but she returned to the spot again and again. I was writhing in the chair, trying not make her accidentally drill somewhere she wasn’t supposed while also attempting to remove myself from torture. She continued to dance around the spot and I calmed my breathing until she suddenly pressed directly on to it with the tip of the drill and I groaned so loudly I surprised myself.
She stopped and apologized and gave me more shots, about three more on the left and two on the right even though we hadn’t gotten there yet, just to be safe. We waited again. The Divorce Court judge ruled that the husband would have to pay her back for bailing him out of jail. And then I was forced to open my mouth like a child playing the airplane game, except this airplane was a drone and my mouth a war zone. My tooth was being bombed, my nerves destroyed. My hands kept balling into fists, my back kept arching and I jumped and twitched and groaned until she finally stopped again and looked closely at the tooth. “It never hurts this much,” I remarked as best I could with a numb jaw, hoping she would take the hint and do something- anything- else. “No, it shouldn’t,” she answered, sticking a tiny round mirror in for a closer look, “but there’s a spot here- I got it. I got it.” She put down the mirror- and picked up the drill again. WHAT DID YOU GET? GOT WHAT? I wanted to scream but there she went again drilling in the same place. She did not give me the cavity, of course, she was only trying to fix what I had apparently broken, but in that moment, with tears of pain sliding from under the dark glasses they had me wear, I hated her more than anybody, ever.
Finally moving on to the last tooth she paused to ask me if I was doing alright. “Mhmm,” I lie and turn my eyes back to the TV. Judge Judy is on now. I hate Judge Judy. She starts to drill the last tooth and finishes with the whole sealing process, but I don’t care anymore. I have lost all will to be present. If this was a hostage situation I would have long ago told them anything they wanted to know. I stand and press a finger to my bottom lip which I cannot feel, and notice that I am shaking. I smile as best I can and thank them for their time before walking up to the counter where I am forced to pay 90 dollars for having my life ruined, my faith in goodness destroyed, and three fillings, two of which wouldn’t have been necessary if I had just had my wisdom teeth pulled. This is what being an adult is, I mumble to myself as I stumble back to my car and call my mother. Recounting the experience, I began to cry for the second time in what turned out to be only a 45 minute appointment.
In short, President Obama, if you do manage to close Guantanamo Bay, to appease the critics you might consider replacing it with a dentist’s office.
Sincerely,
Maya