Getting to the Root of the Problem

i have a little problem. okay, maybe it's a big problem. i'm terrified of the dentist.  don't get me wrong, i'm sure they are all nice and they pay their taxes and call their grandma on their birthday and such, but i'm TERRIFIED.  i may have had a little incident when i was a teenager that i just can't seem to get over.  there was also the wisdom teeth incident of '99 {mom, you know what i'm talking about}. either way, it has scarred me for life.  so, i wait as long as i can to go.  and normally, i wait too long and then i need a bunch of work done.  not good for a 'fraidy cat like me.  NOT good.  

but, i bit the bullet and scheduled my root canal {yes the worst dental evil there is}to just go ahead and get it over with.  yay me, right?  i was really nervous, but kind of excited to get it over with.  i even arrived early.  here we go....

first off, let me say that i told them i was nervous and the lovely receptionist had told me that she had requested nitrous gas for me {i guess that's the laughing gas?} so that i could be relaxed and i wouldn't even need a ride home.  nice.  okay, so here we go.  lay back in the chair, the dentist arrives, i've met him once before and he seems super nice.  however, i know that his wife just had a baby, so i'm thinking..."does he have enough sleep?  is he gonna forget something because he's sleep deprived?"  

so, i ask..."how's the baby?  is she a good sleeper?" {real subtle, right?}

he replies..."well, my wife says that she gets up twice a night, but she sure does sleep a lot"

yes!  wifey is taking care of the little one and doc is getting some zzz's, ready to tackle my dental disaster mouth!

moving on.  he numbs my gums a little and then pokes me with a needle to really get the area good and numb.  i'm praying the whole time.  please Lord, help this man do a good job and please Lord, help me not to cry {out loud}.  then the hygienist comes in.  mask on.  did not introduce herself.  off to a bad start there.  that is one of my pet peeves.  shake my hand and introduce yourself, please.  especially if your hands are gonna be all up in my grill for a few hours.  and another thing. don't let your hair look like you just rolled out of bed.  pull it ALL back in a ponytail, please.  no loose stragglers.  ugh.  

so then they slide in a bite block which is designed to hold my mouth open so that i don't bite them or whatever, i guess.  maybe that's happened before?  hee hee.  anyhoo, at this point, i realize that there is no gas and now, i can't say anything about it because my mouth is jacked open for who knows how long.  fabulous.  i'm starting to get all nervous here.  okay, stacie, you can do this...you'll be fine...get to a happy place, happy place, happy place.  oh dear, i don't have a happy place!  i'm in a dentist's chair, mouth jacked open, no gas! 

nothing i can do about it, so i just try to think of other things.  but doc and loose hairs mcgee over here are mumbling in very close proximity to my ears and i'm pretty sure i heard them say...

doc: "hand me the floogle"

lhm: "red floogle or green floogle?"

doc: "green is fine"

floogle?  really?  i'm certain that's what they said because as i said before...I HAD NO GAS!!!  

of course, then the drilling starts.  so, another confession.  not only am i terrified of the dentist, but  i hate metal things against teeth.  my own teeth and anybody else's teeth for that matter.  please do NOT bite your fork around me.  gives me the heebee jeebees.  why do these drills have to sound like they are attacking your mouth with a band saw?  you would think that technology would have improved over the years and they would have figured out a way to make it sound like something else.  anything else.  my friends tell me that their dentist gives them headphones to at least drown out any unsavory sounds.  sounds like a spa to me.  someone give my dentist the memo, please. 

meanwhile, loose hairs is jabbing the suction thingy down my throat.  gagging me.  she does not know how to be gentle.  and i kid you not, one time she walked away and must not have had a tray or anything because she hung her tool thingy on the corner of my mouth.  someone tell me...is that normal?  i certainly thought it was rude.  like ...  "oh dear, i must use the restroom, but i have nowhere to hang my floogle.  oh wait, here's a spot!  crisis averted!"

then, they sit me up and i think that most of the work is done.  but alas, no.  it has only begun.  i'll spare you many of the horrid details, but then they started the root canal.  and sometimes you have enough tooth left to put a post in which makes it more stable {what i DO want to hear}, but they must drill more for that {what i DON'T want to hear}, and my numbness wore off and i was being jabbed in the gums with a metal thingy that is supposed to hold the rubber dam thing over your face {which by the way made me feel like i couldn't breathe} so then i got more needles to the gums and loose hairs tried to take the impression for my temporary crown and it got stuck and she cracked it in half trying to get it out and had to do it again and oh my word, all i wanted to do was crawl out of the chair and go home and get in bed and cry.  

but, i stayed.  and i have a fresh new root canal.  and a temporary crown.  they ask you to come back in about 2 weeks to "seat the crown".  doesn't that sound fancy?  should i wear an old prom dress or something?