I knew my dentist experience was too good to be true.
After scanning my X-rays and poking my molars with the pointy thing, Dr. Lamb reassured me I’d be fine, no root canals or anything freaky like that.
I proceeded to tell him how my bottom left side shivers and hurts when someone plays a harmonica near by me. He gave me a funny look – like I just asked him a question in Portuguese.
OK. The harmonica thing is for real. When I was in high school and had a mouth full of braces, I went with my parents and brother to Red Lobster for dinner. Right in the middle of enjoying a juicy burger (I didn’t like seafood back then) a pimply, buffoon-ish, clumsy busboy dropped an oversize tub of silverware in the center area of the dining room.
*Owww, I’m clenching my teeth right now just thinking about it* I screamed and jumped out of my velvet-lined restaurant chair. My parents looked at each other and sighed like, “Now what’s wrong with her?”
See, what happened was the sound of all that silverware clanging together for such a massive moment sent me into sheer toothy terror. I was in pure agony the whole night and for the entire next week – no matter what I ate – it felt like I was sucking on a fork.
Ever since then and to this day, I can’t handle metal-to-metal contact.
– Knife sharpeners
– Eating an old-school milkshake with a silver spoon out of a tall silver container
– a fork and knife barely skimming each other as they are cutting meat
God forbid I eat out of a pie tin. It would seriously kill me. My sister and dad sometimes taunt me in the kitchen by holding up butter knives to my face, just to see me flinch.
So imagine my distress this weekend when little Maya walked up to my face (with my hurting silver-lined molars) and cheerfully said “Mommy, listen to a song I made up on my harmonica!”
She broke into her bars like a happy hillbilly girl and I screeched! I grabbed the evil thing out of her little hands and said “STOP!!!”.
Poor Maya. Another freaky mommy experience. The girl is gonna need therapy. Without letting my top and bottom teeth meet (because they were in so much pain) I politely explained my Red Lobster clumsy busboy tragedy to her.
I also explained it to Dr. Lamb this morning. He let me finish my animated, emotional story that I told while sitting upside down in the chair, and then he said, “Hmmm, I’ve never heard one like that before…”
He then went on to explain that I did need some heavy duty cleaning, my wisdom teeth would need to come out and a “few other minor things”, but first we would start with getting my teeth cleaned. So I hooked up with the nice nurse lady who happens to know all my cousins who go there too, and I was happily on my way.
I thought was great considering that I hadn’t recieved a professional tooth cleaning since I was in high school. “Thank goodness I’m a flosser!”, I thought to myself.
When I got to work, the nurse called me to let me know that I needed to schedule three more 70-minute appointments because I needed a “deep root cleaning”, not the regular single 50-minute one. Doesn’t that sound nasty? Thnk about it. Your roots are under your gums. And they want to clean them “deep”. I think blood and novacaine are involved. So now I have to go four weeks in a row, one part of my mouth at a time.
I asked my mom about it and she let out a “I feel sorry for YOU” chuckle (because she has survived a DRC) and suggested I go on Thursday afternoons so I can take Friday off to recoup. I think I want to cry right now! The nurse also told me, after the DRC is completed, I’ll need to get my cavities filled (knew that) and that some of my back teeth are cracking due to old fillings (didn’t know it was that bad).
After THAT, I have four wisdom teeth to come out. Geez, I feel like a used car who went in for a simple oil change and now has to get a brake, transmission and engine job.
My advice? Go to the dentist and get regular cleanings! I’m a wimp at any kind of medical stuff and now I have to endure the worst of it all. Dr. Lamb told me that people who don’t get regular professional cleanings end up wearing dentures by age 50!
A set of chompers in a glass of water? Right now that is sounding pretty dang good…
* All content/photos copyright, © Kathy Cano-Murillo, 2008.