Root canal

I don’t think that I could ever be a secret agent. I have the capabilities (brains and brawn) but I don’t endure pain very well.
If captured and tortured, I would spill the beans faster than you could say “no new taxes”.
I cannot help it, when it comes to physical discomfort I am a sissy!

A few days ago I had to go to the dentist for a toothache.
Bad news, he said after poking into my mouth. You have an infected tooth and you need a root canal.
Upon hearing this masochists no doubts would rejoice; not me. When I hear “root canal”, I get the impulse to run and hide. And I did.
I don’t like strangers to stick sharp or pointed objects in my mouth. It makes me nervous.

But my tooth imperatively demanded attention, and a few days later I reluctantly went back to my dentist to meekly submit to his whims.

You look a little nervous he said, would you like some Valium?
Gladly doctor, a joint might also be helpful.
I didn’t say the latter of course, but I meant it. To me, that would be the ideal time to take a few puffs of locoweed, don’t you think?

Anyway, my dentist and his accomplice (they called him “assistant”) strapped me to a chair and prepared me for surgery.

I told them that I didn’t care for pain, and to use as much anesthetic as the law allowed.
Don’t worry they said, you won’t feel a thing.
A few minutes later, my upper right jaw seemed to have dematerialized. I knew that it was still there, but it had become totally desensitized.

The torturer and his Marty Feldman-like assistant put a bib on me and gave me dark glasses to wear. I was ready for butchering.

After a few tense minutes I heard the sound of scrapping, filing, and the disturbing hissing of a high-speed drill. And it was coming out of my mouth!
Under induced euphoria, I grinned and bore. Actually I bore more than I grinned.
I tried to think happy thoughts. Besides Pasta alla Milanese, I couldn’t come up with anything.

While this was happening, I heard the assistant starting a casual conversation with the receptionist.
This I don’t like. When somebody is dealing with my body parts, I don’t want any distraction for the operating team. But with my mouth invaded by foreign parts and substances I couldn’t say anything.

After I while I caught a whiff of some acrid smoke.

OK, we are done for today, said the dentist.
But, I need to tell you that you have a cracked tooth. I cannot complete the entire procedure. We will probably have to pull out the damaged tooth.


Oh Mighty God of Dentistry, stop chasing the Wood Nymphs and pay attention to me! I need help!




Leave a Reply

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

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.