My Story

So off I went to see another orthodontist. She seemed small and frail to me and very serious. I was about to ask for frequent flyer miles for time in the chair, but quickly realized she would not appreciate the humor. Once I was properly positioned she painted my teeth with some sort of fluorescent material. This substance would make my cracks glow in the dark. She flicked off the lights and peered into my gaping mouth, searching  for bright white cracks. "What highly intelligent, normal person would do this?"  I thought. I could only imagine what hurt inner child she was carrying around with her.  After a bit she spotted two troublesome teeth. And although this woman seemed quite slight, a bing and a bang and suddenly my tongue was sliding through to my cheek with ease.

Yet the pain persisted. "The teeth I removed were definitely cracked," she said. "I don't doubt that, I know you were just doing your job, however, I still have pain,"  I said. "Could you please put them back in?" I thought. "Well, I cannot see below the gum line, let me schedule you to see an endodontist," she said.

"Let me outta here," I exclaimed. I had a dry socket and a hole filled with packing, I had just had two more teeth pulled and now I was to see an endodontist. By the next day I had calmed down. I climbed into my car and began the trek to my endodontist. An endodontist does root canals. They scrape nerves out of you teeth. I will call him Dr. RootScraper.

While sitting in the chair once again it was difficult to explain that I was still having pain. Every time I attempted to talk air would escape. It was kind of a talk-whistle. It startled Dr RootScraper until he realized that it was involuntary. After more sensitivity testing he was convinced he had located the troublesome tooth. He numbed my jaw and surrounded the tooth in some sort of prophylactic material. With my molar safely ensconced in rubber, he got out his little wires and began to dig. "Die you pesky little nerves, I want no more to do with you," I thought. After about 45 minutes I had thus endured my first root canal treatment, I had two more to go.

My poor mouth, I had been to one dentist, two orthodontists and an endodontist.

  I no longer had three teeth and I had just begun a root canal. I was loaded with

       holes, packing, blood clots, missing nerves and a big, numb drooling jaw.

                                     "Time to make love ,"I chuckled.

"It can't be so. I completely removed your nerves from that tooth. You can't still have pain," said Dr. RootScraper. "This must be phantom or imaginary pain," he said. Now, I do not know about you, but I have always played sports. I know what pain is. It's really fundamental, much like electricity. Either you got zapped from sticking your finger in the socket, or you felt no pain because your finger was not in the socket. If you made contact you got bit, it was that simple.

Fighting the urge to grab this little man by the throat and administer my own wires to his teeth, I listened. He could not figure out the pain and was not going to waste any more time with me. His appointment book was chock full of patients lined up to have their molars reamed and the clock was ticking ... He ended up referring me back to Popeye. Round and round ...

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It's In Your Mouth

My Story

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