Dental Joy

All I wanted was some Lucky Charms. Simple enough. But as the cold milk spread  over and between my teeth, like an invading force, it found the spot that was once guarded by an ancient filling. Ancient by some standards. Twenty five to thirty five years or so. But, I had no idea until that moment. That very exciting and painful moment when ice shot through my jaw and up to my brain, literally lifting my head, stretching my neck, and snapping the rest of my body to attention.

There is this bundle of nerves, for your cheek, lip, and all the teeth on one side of your jaw, right up to the midline of your incisors.  That bundle feeds the feeling in all that. So, one nice little shot’ll do it. Takes 'em all out. A mandibular block. That sucker numbs everything at once. One little shot. No big deal. So they say. 

They give you a topical anesthetic that is supposed to keep the needle from hurting as it penetrates the inside of your cheek. Yeah, right. Once that 27 gauge cold steel gets in there and starts rooting around under your skin, looking for the inferior alveolar nerve, the topical don’t mean much.

I handle pain alright. You do what you gotta do. Just wait for the numbby, flubby feeling in your lip. But first comes the sudden sharp jolt from the cold air rushing that exposed area that says, the numbing agent didn’t qutie take yet.

Once you’re there, that whine of the high speed drill complimented by a sweet burny toothy smell relaxes you. Your cheek pinched between the suction tip and your teeth lets you know just what part of your face isn't numb. And we move on to the jaw rattling slow speed that turns into a skull rattle when the dentist glances the handle off your upper teeth. “Oops. Sorry.” I didn’t think they were supposed to say, oops?

Grinding, drilling, packing, shaping, and finally, biting.

Magic.

Of course, once the xylocaine wears off the left side of my face feels like I took a punch from Cain Valesquez.

But at least I could eat my Lucky Charms.