Half-Masked

I went to the dentist’s today because I found an exposed nerve in one of my back teeth. Now, because my mouth is a circus of horrors, they also discovered an impacted wisdom tooth and a tooth right next to the one I went in for that was just as bad, if not worse. And that’s just on my lower right mandible. I was given 4 shots of Novocaine, which did little besides turn me into even more of a drooling idiot than is par the course.

And yet the most annoying part was on the complimentary ceiling-mounted television, where Regis and Kelly were entertaining their special guest: Larry the Cable Guy. I’ve had root canals less awful than that experience.

Now the big reason why I hate going to the dentist is because all of the saliva clogs up in the back of my throat. I have to move my tongue out of the way of the very sharp metal instruments, which collects saliva and that sucky little vacuum thing never seems to get it. And this following Monday, they’re going to continue but with the assistance of the laughing gas.

I’ve got a deathly fear of needles and dentistry, and I hate the ridiculously long time I have to sit and nearly drown while someone drills out the nerve endings in the rotting stone-henge that is my jaw. But the gas is what I hate the most. I HATE losing my grip on consciousness. I prefer to be alert, even if it’s through pain. This is why I don’t drink, or get high or any of that. I prefer awareness, and I will fight tooth and nail(well, nail at least) to find a way around that. Any time I am not truly awake might as well be death, as far as I’m concerned.

It was hard enough trying not to think about that Family Guy clip where Jesus was mixed up with the show Quantam Leap. It’s not even a very funny clip, but still, that is not the time or place I want to be caught laughing my ass off. I had to think of so many dead kittens just to get through the day. Now they want me to be a giggling twit all through the next appointment? I try not to think of anything funny so that I can keep my head still. This way, the drill doesn’t go into my cheek or the roof of my mouth and stab my brain from below.

I’ve got at least(but definitely not the last) two more appointments in the next 6 days. Hell, I still think I should just get ‘em all yanked out and replaced with a bear-trap. That would be kickass. Chewing food is for chumps anyway. STRAWS ALL THE WAY, BABY!

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~A.H.