Dentaly Challenged

Last time I had a tooth turn on me it was a molar. Luckily, I was in college and had zero medical coverage so all I could really afford was to have the bastard pulled. Mrs. Bastard's job provides decent dental, so when a corner chipped off during a vigorous contest with a candy coated malt egg, I went in hoping it was a some drilling and a filling.

After my dentist got into my tooth (who loves the smell of burning tooth? OMG me too!) we found out it was not to be so. The choice to make (after he removed the sexy dental damn and the device that helps keep the mouth open) was pull it or do a root canal.

Being kind of young yet, it seemed like the smart thing to do was to get a root canal. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding--I had insurance for once in my life so I opted to keep my Bastard's Smile in tact. Otherwise, I'd be down two teeth.

Apparently most teeth have three roots--unless you're a bastard. Then you get to have four, which makes for more drilling and an extra nerve to pull out. That forth root, however, was infected.

Apparently, some of a root canal's bad reputation stems from infected roots. The PH level of the infection has a neutralizing effect on anesthesia. So if the dentist keeps on drilling--you're gonna feel it.

My dentist opted to throw on a temporary filling and have me come back in ten or days.

TEN or so days later, I'm back in the chair. Infection is gone. My first root canal is finally going to happen! No more of this "just the tip, baby" bullshit.

After I was all numbed up and my mouth properly wedged open he explained the procedure and how it was going to take at least an hour, probably an hour and a half. His assistant put headphones on me and handed me the remote. She explains it's not cable, just a bunch of movies.

The chair goes back into the laying position and the ceiling TV comes on. The drill starts spinning but I can still hear the shows. I began flipping through the movies, just letting the channel change, not really looking at what's on.

I stoppedthe channel surfing randomly as my dentist positioned himself above me, his trusty drill in hand.

What's on? Cast Away.

What part? Every one's favorite I'm sure--the part where he takes out a tooth with a rock and an ice skate.

I can't help it--I have a morbid sense of humor I guess. I start laughing. Apparently this isn't a common reaction to ungassed patients. He stopped and looked questioningly at me. I gestured up as best I could. If he'd looked up a second later he'd had missed the scene and I'd just be the crazy guy who thinks root canals are funny. But he gazed up in time.

He laughed while I chuckled and drooled. "See," he said, flipping his tooth drill back on. "It could be worse!"