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.
“That tooth is done. I almost forgot about the other two,” says the kind dentist with great bedside manners. I smile with the right side of my face.

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?