Days With My Dentist

Mood: oks lang.
Now Playing: valkyrie missile, angels and airwaves

DAY 1: "You Need Surgery!" and other painful words.

I've always been proud of my teeth. Well not by it's whiteness or shit, but by it's structure; some dentist long ago once told me that i had one of the best looking set of teeth there is - evenly spaced, with no breaks or shiznit in between. As a kid, that was one of the best compliments i've ever heard in my life (though admittedly, i was still a kid and i cried a lot back then, so she may have been just saying that to make me feel better, but what the hell ). Life would have been so perfect and great if things remained like that forever and ever, but nooo. It just had to change; i grew up, discovered junk food, discoverd street food, and realized how much amazing food there is in the world, and bang! before i knew it, i had this throbbing pain - like gnawing at blocks of ice for a long long while - in my gums.

And so with much nagging and nagging - and did i mention nagging - from my dear mother, i went to this dentist. She looked pretty kind, and smiled a lot, which showed her set of white, even teeth - though i guess that comes with the job description. She motioned for me to sit down on the dentist's chair, y'know, the one with those weird drills and suction and water spraying devices.

"So let's see what we have today, Daryl. *smile* Open your mouth, " she says. I do as she says, expecting her to say "ah yan, tinga lang yan. here, have some floss and candy" But nope. Suddenly, she exclaims "Hala ayan! Ang laki na ng sira ng third molar mo! kelangan ng bunutin to! *taps the mtherlkajdlsckin tooth* ayan Daryl o, impacted na ung tooth mo, o.. naku, kelangan ng bunutin yan *smiles*"

If my molar had a face, i would have punched it out of the galaxy.

So she informs me that basically, my teeth are too cramped, and this one molar is disturbing the others, because as it turns out, it's root is digging into the other teeth's roots. And then she launched into this litany on how i should take care of my teeth, how i should floss every meal and floss, floss, floss. And basically, i have to get my third molar out of there before it digs in anymore and hurt my other teeth.

Then she sat me down on the chair again - in my agitation i had stood up, panicking - and proceeded to explain that i needed ten tooth fillings or else i will shrivel up and die. Kidding, who shrivels up and dies nowadays? But yeah, i needed the ten teeth fillings badly. But, since all the moolah i had on me that day could only afford one, i went home with single tooth filling and a promise to come back later that week.

DAY 2: That Other Day

So after two days, i went to see the dentist again, this time to fill in the 9 remaining fillings i needed to have. Placing in a single filling already hurt so bad. Placing in 9 fillings all at once was pure hell. The third molar throbbed like crazy and she kept on filling the spaces NEAR the third molar itself, thereby adding MORE pain. The drill was whirring like crazy and there i was, my mouth open for like 2 hours, while she poked in and out of my teeth. I could have sworn i heard a giggle somewhere in between those two hours, but what the hell.

To amuse myself, i let my mind wander across the room. She had put on this cd earlier on, and i smiled at that; at least she tried to make me feel better. I closed my eyes ( my mouth was still open ) and tried to focus on the music alone, not the sound the drill was making. I steadied myself and tried my best to drown myself in the sound of... waves crashing(?!). Huh? Okay, sure, whatever.

Half an hour with my mouth open and with nature-sounding sounds in the background isn't a good idea. By the time she was finished, two hours of my youth was spent, and so was my tolerance for pain.

DAY 3: "Not A Bleeder!"

Day 3 found me rnging the bell to this dental surgeon my dentist recommended. Like what i've
been doing the past 3 days, i sat down on the dental chair and opened my mouth real wide. The dental surgeon was a big burly guy with a set of the roundest eyes i've ever seen. He smiled when i entered the room and gestured for me to sit down on the operating chair.

"So, Daryl" he began "Did Dr. _____ explain the procedure to you? We're going to have to cut through here (traces my cheek downwards with his finger) and then we'll probably have to break your molar to ge it out. As you know, your third molar is adding pressure on your other teeth's roots, so we have to get it out right away. I can also surmise that the other third molar - that is, the one on your right - is not a bit far off, and should also need removal. I urge you to do it ASAP. Do you have any questions?"

I looked at the equipment, a big screwdriver thingy, a drill, suction, and a set of surgical knives.

"Just one, Doc. Will there be pain?"

He smiled at that and reaches inside the drawers beside him. He takes out this little needle, and flicks the tip.

"No, Daryl. At least not in the way you expect it to be."

Damn, this guy is doing a terrific job of terrifying me, i remember thinking. But all things asdie, he is a pretty good surgeon, anyway. He puts on this CD and i almost laughed out loud. Vivaldi? On a dentist trip? Who would've thought.

He made me relax on the chair and open my mouth. He brings the needle in closer and baam~ sticks my gums with it. Dizzy and disoriented by the sudden movement, i closed my eyes. Wrong move.

He sticks in another needle, and this time, i felt numbness. Like someone stopped the flow of your blood. The surgeon smiled, and then proceeded to do his work. A few minutes later, i heard him exclaim, "Wow, Daryl. You're not a bleeder!"

I wish i could've talked to him right then and there, on lots of things. One of them does not concern dentistry.

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So, here i am, typing away, with a throbbing 5 stitches to my left gums and a freaking headache to boot. I have no idea how i got the headache, and i guess i;m better off leaving it that way; clueless. After all, there are times when the saying "what you don't know won't hurt you" comes true anyways.