Drinking problem and dentistry
By John Toth
I have a drinking problem.
It happens every time I get dental work done. I have trouble drinking for a while.
“You can rinse now,” says the kind dental technician.
I sip the water from the cup and spit it all over the floor, totally missing the spittoon.
“I told you I have a drinking problem.”
I can’t feel the left side of my face. It took a load of drugs, I guess, to deaden that little nerve that caused a lot of problems when the drill hit the tooth.
“Let me know if you feel anything,” says the kind dentist.
I let him know. Please, I’m allergic to pain. Time to deaden it some more.
I don’t want to feel anything. You can do whatever you want in there, as long as I don’t feel it.
One time, I had some oral surgery done and thought I’d save $200 by not being put to sleep.
It didn’t hurt, but the surgeon had his glasses on, and I could see in the reflection everything he was doing. It was gross.
So, I closed my eyes.
I was drifting in and out, and suddenly I felt the surgeon tapping on my shoulder.
“I’m glad we didn’t put you under. It’s not as bad as I thought. I can do another procedure right now and save you some money, but you’ll have to sign a release.”
I’m also glad you didn’t put me under, I said as I signed on the dotted line and saved $1,400 by being brave.
That’s the last time I was brave. No more staying awake for oral surgery. Knock me out. I don’t want to know. Wake me up when it’s over. Luckily, that was also the last time I had to have anything like that done.
This time, I’m just having three old fillings replaced. I wanted the bone-shade composite filling, not that old silver stuff.
The left side is done, except for the drinking problem. No more pain as the drill took out the old silver.
A long time ago, I had my wisdom teeth removed on Halloween. The appointment just worked out that way.
When I walked in, a fairy greeted me. Then I walked into the dentist’s office, and a clown showed up. Nice clown makeup, too.
The dentist dressed up as a clown for Halloween.
Good thing I had nerves of steel, otherwise I would not have allowed a clown to pull my wisdom teeth.
I didn’t feel a thing, but I don’t know which was worse: Witnessing my own oral surgery, or seeing a clown approaching me with a dental drill?