The Laughing Wolf

Scared of the dentist…me?

This post dedicated to MK, who had quite a substantial dental op yesterday and came through it with flying colours

I have quite bad teeth, I will freely admit that and I am currently trying to pluck up the courage (and the money) to get them sorted out.  A brief checkup revealed that fixing them is not a huge job, but it will cost a bit.

That said, the main sticking point is not really the money…it’s the fear.  I have had a number of bad experiences with Dentists in my life, but one really sticks out.

Oh, did I mention that I seem to have an immunity to the numbing agent that they inject you with?  No…glad I cleared that up then.

A few years ago I woke up with toothache.  Nothing particularly unusual there really…lots of people get toothache.  Me being me, I choose to ignore it and hope it goes away.  It doesn’t.  Why does ignoring it rarely work…anyway.  Two days later and I wake up in ridiculous pain.  I head to the bathroom for some painkiller and catch glimpse of the Elephant Man in the mirror.  Essentially, I look like a cartoon version of myself…a cartoon version of myself that has stored a football in its cheek for the winter.  In short….not good.

I go into the bedroom and wake Sarah up with a pitiful “Help me, it hurts” and we head off to the dentist.  They agree to see my right away and tell me that it is an abcess.  I have since learned that with this type of dental issue, they must treat the infection with antibiotics before they can remove the affected tooth.  Enter Dr Australia.  I call him that not because he had won best doctor in Australia, but because he was Australian and frankly I can’t think of another suitable nickname without being abusive.

This guy takes one look and tells me that he has to extract the tooth immediately, abcess and all, as…and I quote… “If that thing bursts, you will be in serious trouble”.  He gives me two injections around the area and leaves me for a few minutes for them to take.  As he is prodding and I am still yelping, he gives me two more.  This goes on around 5 (I think) times.  So I have now had around 10 injections and can still feel everything…determined to work through the pain, Dr Australia gets to work (what a trooper).  The pain was unbelievable and I am shaking as a result.  He stops and informs me that I have to be still.  I lean under the chair, grab hold of the metal struts underneath and tense for all I am worth in an effort to stay motionless.  Dr Australia is still struggling to get the tooth out and after a few minutes (I am quite literally crying at this point), he stops and moves away.  Whereupon he chooses to basically shout at me to stop moving, telling me that I could die if it bursts etc etc.  I nod, defeated, and tense so much that I am practically breaking through the struts underneath the chair.  Eventually, he manages to get the tooth free.  It wasn’t alone, a golf-ball sized abcess (I shit you not) came out with it, and I practically pass out from the pain.  Free of the tooth pain and now only dealing with the aftermath, we stagger to my Nans house so that I can sleep it off.  I glance in the mirror and it looks like I just lost a fight in the UFC.  Bruises over my face where he was leaning and pushing and generally trying to get leverage, everything was swollen and my eyes were bloodshot.  It was a good look.

A few hours later we head home and I go to bed again.  Unfortunately, just as I get to the top of the stairs, I black out and tumble down them.  Sarah calls a doctor who checks me out and then informs Sarah that it would appear that the anasthetic had finally taken hold…which was enough to knock out a large waterbuffalo….and before you say anything, even my ample size only accounts for a small waterbuffalo…

Not all Dentists are bastards…just small Australian ones working in North Nottinghamshire