Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time in that altered state otherwise known as having dental work done. You know, that time where they are doing some significant work on your teeth, and due to some ultra-sensitivity to pain that you posses, they have numbed the
offending tooth whole side of your face and neck . You've convinced yourself that the pain medication has finally kicked in, and you stop digging your nails into your palms, a technique I like to use to somehow potentially balance the pain that I feel might suddenly feel in my teeth during the drilling process. You've got several fingers in your mouth that don't belong to you, as well as any number of dental instruments. Your chair is tilted back far enough to make the blood swim around in your head, and they've taken away your glasses, replacing them with wide, shaded goggles that some safety-conscious tool man might use - in the sunshine. While the work is being done, you occasionally worry that your tongue might be getting in the way of the work, but then you ponder (deeply): Hey, where
is my tongue? Random water spray and little tooth bits are flying anywhere, and after awhile you just kind of drift away and just let them do whatever it is they have to do. It's all kind of surreal, actually.
After one is like that for a good hour and a half, it can be quite a challenge to stand up and walk down the hall to the receptionist's desk in any state of normalcy.
If only I had this kind of work done once every ten years or so. If only we just went in for checkups and cleanings. If only my previous dentist hadn't recommended that I encourage the boys to be dentists so that they could personally (and cheaply) fix all off the old fillings in my teeth that she said would soon fall out.
Today the only residual damage is a sore jaw and a slightly uneven-feeling temporary crown. My head is much clearer, and I'm not staggering down any halls any more, but I know it's just a matter of time before I'll be back...
