Share My Root Canal Hell

I want to write about something else right now but I need to come back to it because there are 2 good things I want to tell you about right now. So I'll come back to why I'm going to hell.

So I went to the dentist yesterday about my sore tooth. A little history about my life with the dentist: 1. I am part British--the part that is attached to my teeth. As a child I had multiple cavities and even had to have teeth removed. I have never liked the dentist. I know no one did but I had special reasons. One emotionally abused me by telling me I salivated more than any other patient he had ever had. (Later I realized this could be turned into an asset with my especially close male friends.)

Also as I've previously mentioned, novacaine doesn't work properly on me. Only, since my whole life it never has, I always thought that was just the way it was . . . Imagine my joy at finding out (in my mid-twenties) that some people just don't react to lydocaine? The dentist said we'd do carbocaine, which is stronger.

Nope. Doesn't work either. Sometimes it works a little. Sometimes it dulls things. I told the dentist it didn't work the first time so he stopped, gave me another excruciating shot with the ginormously long and SCARY-LOOKING needle. Still didn't work. He sighed, stopped again. Shot again. Still didn't work.

He asked again if it was working. I made an affirmative grunting noise. It was a lie. At this point, I decided that despite the pain of actual drilling, if I could just shut up about the pain again like I had all my life I could be out of the damn chair much sooner and not be loaded up with novacaine that wasn't even working. Hence, I most often feel everything when the dentist does a procedure.

A root canal? What does that feel like? Well, first there's the drilling. The very beginning of drilling doesn't bother much at all. Once he gets past the enamel is when it starts to really hurt. Just look up at the ceiling. Trace the crevices in the tiles with your eyes. DO NOT tense your hands on the arms of the chair or he'll know it hurts, stop, and bring out the needle again, as if that will help. Once he pops off enough of the tooth to reach the raw, exposed nerve, the real fun begins.

He pulls out this itsy bitsy file/screw crossbreed. This is to be inserted into the prong parts of your tooth, where the nerves live. He shoves it into the tangle of pulpy nerve, not realizing, of course, that you are feeling the whole horrid thing. He pushes it in good and deep and then proceeds to rip the nerves right out of the roots. He files and screws, screws and files. The pain is nearly excruciating. Blink a lot to keep tears from forming. Trace the crevices in the ceiling again.

He stops, looks into the tooth with his little mirror. Nope, missed some nerve. Gotta really screw that file in good and tight this time!

Finally, he is done with ripping nerves out; next he finds pins that are the right length to fill the hollow roots and keep the tooth stable. He tries out a few different sizes, putting them into the now nerve-free root. Yay, you might think. No more pain! Well, you would be wrong. He inserts the pins into the root and they go down deep enough to connect with the nerves that are running through your jaw. Take that, jaw nerves! How do you like getting stabbed with a little needle over and over? Not so much, huh?

So when it was done, I came home and decided to spend the rest of the day high on vicodin. This is why I actually began this post several days ago and actually only got as far as the ellipses; when I first started this post I ended up passing out in a drug-induced stupor. I had to come back and finish the rest when the trauma had passed enough to recount the incident.

I Heart Henry Lee

I called the dentist today. I'm going to see him tomorrow. He wanted to see me at 7:30 tonight but I just couldn't. I had to attend a work event.

Highlight of the day: I got to meet Dr. Henry Lee, famed forensic scientist formerly of the O.J. trial, currently of the CourtTV show, "From the Files of Dr. Henry Lee.". No one seems as thrilled with that as I am. Don't know why. It was better than meeting Kiki and Ted Kennedy Jr. to me, though they were nice too. I especially liked Ted III, who is about 3 1/2 feet tall right now. Presidential material, that one. I'm telling you.

As much as I like my job, I'm actually looking forward to this root canal so I can have some forced time off from work (because given the choice I'd work 12-16 hours a day--and have been--instead of go home early). If there is something more to be done for the campaign I want to stay and get it done. Trouble is, it never ends and I never catch up.

Truth? I've actually turned down the opportunity for sex to spend more time working lately.

Even though I'm loving work I'm beginning to realize my priorities might have become just ever so slightly out of whack lately.

Late Night Stream of Thought

Getting a touch of insomnia again. Probably from working long hours.

I finally caught up on my laundry. I actually have enough clean clothes to last over a week for once. I also cleaned out my car. My interns were shocked when I offered them a ride to the main office today. "Where can we sit?" Brendan asked. "Your car is a mess!"

"Ah ha," I replied. "But I cleaned it yesterday!" It actually holds 5 people again. Now poor Professor Bob just needs a good wash and vaccuum. The birds and summer bugs have not been kind to him. (Though I suspect the bugs would feel he hasn't been kind to them either.)

Fucking bug guts are like glue when they dry, too.

Oh, and I think I might have to get a root canal or something. My dentist filled a cavity that I hadn't even noticed but apparently was kind of deep, so he told me he packed it with medicine or something, and that might fix it but if it began to get sensitive at all to call him right away and he'd do a root canal. Do not wait until you are crying from the pain like you did last time, he told me.

It's been bothering me off and on for weeks. Part of my insomnia tonight is directly related to the tooth ache. Why do I wait like this? Prayer. I pray and pray that it will be better tomorrow, and sometimes it is, until it gets to the point where I'm popping codeine and rubbing whiskey on my gums all weekend, then forcing the dentist to come in on a Sunday afternoon because I just can't take it anymore.

Novacaine does not work on me, you see. There are two kinds--Cabocaine and Lanocaine. The dentist uses the stronger one on me now but that still doesn't work. I feel everything. Hence, I avoid him at all costs. I have to find one of those dentists that gives you pills or laughing gas for everything.

I'll put that on my list after getting my tonsils ripped out.

I am my Own Woman

I like having six pillows on my bed and having no one to blame but myself if the bed's not made. Of course, I always make it so there's no one to get mad at about it either.

I like that I adopted a kitten who was abandoned by its mother immediately after birth and I didn't have to ask anyone if it was okay. Not that I want to be the lady with ten cats but it's good to know that I can have as many cats or dogs or parakeets as I desire.

I don't own any parakeets but I remember owning one when I was little. He would bathe in my cupped hands under the running water from the sink. He would sit on my shoulder or sometimes perch on my finger. I suppose it wouldn't be a good idea to own a parakeet any more, now that I have 2 cats.

I like that I can watch anything I want to on TV. I can watch Law & Order in its many incarnations, Desparate Housewives, Gray's Anatamy, etc., and I have to justify my choices to no one. I do not have to bargain. 1 hour of DH for 1 hour of Discovery Channel.

I like that when I rent a movie, I rent whatever the hell I desire. No trade-offs--your turn to choose an action-adventure so that next time I can choose a romantic comedy. And the truth is, I sometimes choose an action-adventure all on my own, but it is my choice.

I like that every single evening is free for me to use as I please. Sometimes I work late. Okay, a lot of times I work late. But sometimes I go to the bar, sometimes I go to a friend's, sometimes I might have sex with FWB. Sometimes I might have a girls' night out. Often I stay home all by myself and put my pajamas on; have a glass of wine; read a book until I pass out.

I like that every choice I make is mine alone. It's been over a year but the whole owning my life thing hasn't worn off yet. I answer to no one but myself. I am my own woman.

Turn-ons: Bald and Homophobic

Last weekend I house/dog sat for Jenn. To thank me, she had me over for dinner tonight and at one point said we needed to go out onto the porch so we could talk about something that her boyfriend, Justin, couldn't overhear. So out we went.

Here's what it was about: Justin nearly invited a friend of his over for a surprise set-up. I would have frigging killed them. And then Jenn says, but Justin really wants to set you up. And she had a great sell to go with this guy. Are you ready??

. . .

He's bald and slightly homophobic.

That is what she had to say about this guy they want to hook me up with. Now I've got nothing against bald guys. If they are completely bald, I think it's sexy, actually. But if you are giving just a couple of tidbits to me about someone you actually want me to be interested in, bald and homophobic aren't what I personally would have chosen. Good sense of humor? Really nice? Great eyes? There's got to be something better than bald/homophobic.

Now here's the worst part of this whole thing. Are you ready this time??

. . .

I'm actually half considering it. What the hell does that say about me?