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