To Tell the Tooth

Raise your hand if you hate going to the dentist. (Raise your hand if you feel ridiculous sitting there with your hand raised while you read this on your phone.)

I am not a fan of anyone that messes with my teeth. I practice good oral hygiene and a you-don't-bother-me-and-I-won't-bother-you attitude as far as my teeth are concerned, but lately I have one tooth that hasn't been living up to the bargain. This causes a problem for me because I have a genuine fear of going to the dentist. I'm afraid they'll pull the wrong tooth. I'm afraid there will never be enough novocain to stop the pain. I'm afraid there will be too much novocain and it will numb both my throat and my nose so I can't breathe or swallow.

I'm not sure why I have such an aversion to dentists, but I do have a long history of more than usual unpleasantness when it comes to dentists. For instance, when I was seven my dentist decided that he should pull all four of my top front teeth at the same time, even though two of them weren't even loose yet. I spent two toothless years until finally my permanent teeth came in. Or maybe it was because, when I had two wisdom teeth removed, the dentist numbed the wrong side of my mouth and I ended up numb on both sides from my nose to my throat for the next eight hours. Then I needed stitches once he was through pulling the teeth, and he accidentally sewed my cheek to my gum.

My history of terrible dentist experiences has continued, and it has been a four month odyssey to get this stupid tooth taken care of, but it was finally extracted yesterday. I knew I needed a root canal because they told me so, but they said they needed to clear up the infection first, so they put me on antibiotic. Then they didn't have an appointment opening for another month. Then the dentist scolded me for waiting for a month. (!) Then she started the root canal, but couldn't finish because it was too involved and there was a discussion about razors and lasers being needed. Then she just decided to pull it.

Since I didn't want to go around with a gap in my teeth making me look like I was a backwoods mountain woman (no offense to backwoods mountain women intended), they offered to have a "flipper" made to take the spot of the missing tooth. Raise your hand if that gives you a mental image of a tooth that you can flick until it spins in your mouth.

They said the flipper would take 2-3 weeks to make and then they couldn't give me another appointment for several weeks after that, although I'm beginning to wonder why this particular dentist office is so popular. Then the dentist that was working on me quit the office at the end of the year (I didn't mind losing her because she was not a pleasant person) so I had to have a new dentist take over.

I was supposed to get the tooth pulled last Thursday, but the day before the appointment they called to say that they couldn't find the flipper. That changed to somehow they forgot to send the impression off to the lab to have the flipper made. That changed to they made the wrong impression of my mouth and could I come in so they could do it again. I did that on Thursday and somehow the lab miraculously finished the flipper in two business days so I'm not sure why it was going to take 2-3 weeks before.

At any rate, the new dentist pulled my tooth yesterday. She was very nice and seemed competent. It did take nine injections of novocain before I was numb enough not to feel anything. In the meantime, if I'd had any State secrets, I would have gladly spilled them. Everything went well overall until the dentist realized that the lab had made the wrong kind of flipper. This one has a hard plastic piece that goes across the roof of my mouth. It is uncomfortable, doesn't fit well and gives me a speech impediment.

They said the new piece should be done in a week. Should I believe them?