Some Discomfort?: “Revenge Of The Diabolical Dentistas” – Part 2

Follow up to The Cost Of My Past Stupidity Is Crimping My Fabulous Lifestyle: “Revenge Of The Diabolical Dentistas” – Part 1

WHAT THE HELL DID I EXPECT?

Sitting In The Same Dental Chair Ten Days Later … 

I was told,

“You may experience some discomfort.”

Lying McSOB’s.

And, also, please define ‘some’ and ‘discomfort’ in relative terms?

WHAT I GOT WAS

Pain.

Enough to complain about it here – and everywhere I’ve been the past week-and-a-half – but not in a whiny way.

Oh, really?

Drool.

Plenty of it, which I confess to loving more than I ever could’ve imagined.

Is this the improbable start of Paraphilic Infantilism?

Please say no.

I’m Sapiosexual, damn it!

Plus, numb, numbly, numbelicious …  Popsicle Lips for 7 hours …

” … brain freeze freaked me out, because I like having an active sensory safeguard to defend against any possible invasion of my oral cavity by uninvited foreign objects of dubious origin and intent.”

You never know.

Why I sleep with my mouth closed.

And, as a hard, unbreakable Life Rule, never participate in Prison Shower Frolics.

Call me crazy and shy.

IT DIDN’T TAKE MUCH TIME

For My $3,200 Investment Ransom To Bloat 

Another $458.

It’s not about the money, folks.

Yes, it is.

It’s always about the money

… When cheap ass medical insurance covers less than 3% of the expense.

Then I get all Jodie Foster on my claim, which never ends well for anyone.

WHERE’D THE SHOULDER SHIMMYING GO?

Dancing Queen – the entertaining, if not overly friendly and accommodating dental assistant whom I’d met on the first visit – was curiously subdued on this go-around.

“I’m almost certain she didn’t read my previous post – part one of this farce – because, well, almost no one did …  :)”

Down on Nitrous Oxide?

Hmmm.

What, no slow brush-by’s, darling?

Fingers tapping my shoulders …

Or, pelvic gyrations?

WHY’D THE MUSIC STOP?

Bingo.

That was it.

DQ was stymied by the silence.

Silenzioso morto.

Samson sans locks.

Superman’s kryptonite.

The sound system was harping out crickets.

Where’d the 80’s Dance Jams scatter off?

“New Order … Depeche Mode … Yazoo?”

Blasphemy on the dance floor.

HERE WE GO

Small Talk Is Derailed.

Chit-Chat is nudged aside when the Op starts.

We’re joined by a third member of Team Some Discomfort.

A lovely second assistant.

Let’s call her Jsu Jsu …

Obvious as a Yellow Jujube.

Lemon Drop?

She’s sweet.

And, only sneezed once by the instruments during the assault.

ANALGESIA IS IT NOW?

Radiation Red Goop, a loosely gelatinous concoction of Red Dye #40 and Sweet & Sour Sauce – Dental Syrupy Sh!t is the topical numbing agent spread on my gums like Nutella on ‘S’ cookies.

You know the type.

Italian Nona’s scarf down these Anisette & Crack-laced goodies by the tray load.

The Goop delivers as promised and does wonders in prepping the area before …

“… the footlong Knitting Needle (syringe) tipped with Armageddon-grade Plutonium local ‘Analgesia’ – lovely word, I was hoping it meant something else … to promote the ‘Absence of Sensation’ – is plunged deep into my gums.”

AN UNNECESSARY DIGRESSION ABOUT NEEDLES

A Moment To Pause And Reflect On The Enormity Of Morbid Fear Percolating Deep Within Me … 

On why it took exactly Three ‘What The Freaking’ Hell applications of the nefarious DEFCON needle to get there.

Isn’t one smartly applied injection just about right?

A 2nd injection worries me.

A 3rd and I’m thinking I should’ve packed extra Wet Naps and Pull-Ups.

THE CHIPPER DOC SAID

“Hey, Sport … Your Tongue Should Feel A Little Numb At The Sides.”

I drooled, slurring my way to:

“Why’re You Freezing My Tongue, Numb Nuts?”

I scan the walls for a diploma to substantiate that the Diabolical Dentista has in fact, graduated from a recognized Dental School.

There it is.

Nice frame.

Okay, he’s DDS certified by the top school in the country.

20 MINUTES INTO THE DENTAL EXORCISM

We Get On With It.

My jaw’s frozen.

I can’t feel anything.

Nada.

All sensation in my chin, ear lobes, eye lashes – and I believe my left testicle (possibly both) – are lifeless.

Analgesia doing its thing, darling.

IS THIS A DENTAL LOBOTOMY?

What I’m Asking Myself.

Doc, again:

“You may hear a cracking noise.  It’s just your tooth.  I’m breaking in half.”

I did.

Twice.

I answered, slurring sloppily, so joyfully, playfully … with drool:

“You will feel a kick.  A hard one.  To your scrotum.  It’s just my foot.  Breaking them.”

Wiggle … Wiggle

Pry … Pry.

Yank … Yank.

Voila.

GAPPED IN THE NICK OF TIME

Out Damned Pretty Little Tooth.

A lone, salty tear streams down my cheek and pools at the corner of my mouth …

DQ dabbles it away.

A touching Hallmark moment.

Peaches & Herb chime in over the sound system.

“Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited ’cause we understood
There’s one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited ’cause we’re reunited, hey, hey,”

DQ’s Groove is Back.

SIDE-EYED THE DENTAL TOOLS

Pro-Tip:  Never Do This In A Dental Chair.

There’s something oh, very … Medieval – Ritualistically Satanic – Human Sacrifical – Clockwork Orangey … by way of Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Lizzie Borden about the whole set up.

I think of the heart-warming scene in Marathon Man where Dr. Szell (Laurence Olivier) tortures the daylights out of Babe (Dustin Hoffman).

“Is it safe?  Is it safe?”

End serendipitous digression.

YEAH, IT HURTS

Almost As Much As The Time I Stuck My Tongue On A Frozen Steel Fence Post In The First Grade.

I’m not good with pain.

Or, needles.

Long ones, especially.

I drift back to Nurse Smiley.

IF MY MYOPIC VISION

Was Fractionally Better Than My Untrusting Senses 

I’d say Team Some Discomfort was filling the new cavity – void left unoccupied by the extracted tooth – with … what’s this now?

Whitish stuff. 

Reminds me of something I fear entering my mouth and shallowing.

Can’t do it, Doc.

“Smells like pineapple.”

I’m told.

Rhymes with … never mind.

That’s the only clue you’re getting.

I relax when advised its only a bone graft, silly bastard.

And, not something more invasive.

Turns out to be Biocompatible Calcium Phosphate.

Who knew?

THAT DOESN’T TICKLE

I Know Something About Hand Tools.

Like wrenches.

And, ratchets.

Which is exactly what is being used to torque down the dental post – Titanium Torpedo – into the hard bone below my tender gums.

I CAN’T FEEL JACK SNAP

Except For The Ratchet Torqueing Into The Bone.

Three or four good tugs at it.

Another one.

To teach the smartass in me the real meaning of Some Discomfort.

Its in there alright.

I’M IN STITCHES

But Not Laughing.

It tickles.

What’s This Touching My Nose?

Dental sutures.

Thread stretched two feet above me.

Dangling.

I try to swat it away.

My shoulder’s numb.

I blow at it.

Pffffff.

Spit goes up.

Saliva hits my eye on the decline.

MY LAST GARGLE

Before I’m Introduced To My Temporary Tooth.

Not sure what its called.

A partial denture thingy?

A solitary tooth – lower incisor – sitting on a plasticky pink plate made to look reasonably enough like my gums.

Like a wad of Dubble Bubble Gum shaped into a malformed walnut-esque clump.

It goes in my mouth and snaps into place.

I can feel it.

Because its not a perfect fit despite being made from a mold of my lower teeth and gums.

I wanted to gag.

This is just before I’m presented the final balance.

I gagged.

I’M INVITED BACK

In Two Weeks.

Follow-up protocol.

So, I can pay again – third time – for who knows what they’ll claim as part of the additional expenses I was promised.

Lab fees, por favor.

And reminded, that I’m not getting the ceramic (permanent) crown for 4 months.

It’ll be summer.

I’ll have shed my winter weight and coat.

Lightly bronzed in parts.

Freshly manscaped in other parts.

But, that’s another story.

I’ll share.

 

 

 

 

 

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