daines'n around

Today was an introduction to various aspects of life that I'd rather not take part in again. Working full time has blessed me with the opportunity to have health insurance, and dental insurance.

What luck, I thought, as I cracked a tooth a week ago -- I won't have to pay every piece of the puzzle. So I went to the dentist. I've never really wanted to go back in time and tell myself how important it is to floss more than I did this week. I've had really good tooth care for most of my life. I brush all the time. I've only had a few cavities filled.

I made an appointment at the dentist, informing them that I had not been to a dental care facility in about five years. Tooth number 15 had cracked, and I really wanted to get it taken care of.

Lo and behold, I have to have a root canal, and a crown put on it. Great. There goes Christmas for Chris. What are you doing for Christmas? Oh paying off my bill for my teeth.

Today was my second trip to an oral surgeon in my life. The first was 7 years ago to have my wisdom teeth removed. They gave me wondrous drugs at that point in time, so I wasn't very put out at all.

My experience today was a little different. I was nervous. American children are told to brush their teeth or the dentist will commit extreme acts of torture upon them. It is another one of those interesting outlets of fear and propaganda. Never mind that dentists with a good bedside manner will ALWAYS be in demand and always make money because EVERYONE has teeth. They don't need to have a good PR campaign. Like shoemakers, they have clientèle -- always. Health insurance makes their service even more profitable. People will be willing to go to have their teeth cleaned.

I was nervous today. I was ushered into the ground floor oral surgery room where a young boy was fitted well with nitrous oxide and the surgeon was explaining how they had to drain the infection and fill a hole but let it heal in someway and he would come back in six weeks. I was glad there was a cabinet between our chairs cause i'm sure I would have grit my teeth the whole time if I had to imagine this poor boy suffering.

My teeth weren't that bad. I wasn't infected. I wasn't dying. I had some tooth decay. I blame society -- somehow -- and soft drinks ... and my inherent stubbornness when it comes to flossing.

The dental assistant was about one year out of school in Arizona, and she had moved to Provo to live with her sister because she didn't want to move back to Texas to be home. Why do I know this? I'm nervous. I ask questions when I'm nervous. It's amazing the inability so many dental assistants have to explain the function of specific instruments.

Halfway through the procedure I have chucks of ground tooth splattered across my tongue, and an overwhelming desire to spit the gathering pool of saliva from the back of my throat. One of the other assitants says, "Hey Rita," (not my assistant's real name) "it's kinda quiet go get John's CDs."

She asks me if I want to hear anything. The surgeon had removed his tools and moved to another patient who was almost done. The left side of my face is almost unresponsive, and I sound like Rocky Balboa. "wut da yu hab?"

She flips through, reading off names. "Brittney Spears, REO Speedwagon, ABBA, Creed.... Wow these are some great CDs."

I spit. It dribbles down my chin on onto my plastic dentistry bib. How wonderful I thought. This is why they make these things -- in case I almost laugh myself to death with a numb mouth.

"Well, what do you want to listen to?"

I half-smile, and not because I want to be debonair or asinine -- I'm still numb.

"I think you had better choose, cause your friend's music is stuck in some sort of time warp."

At least, that's what I meant to say. I don't know what she understood. But her response was so quick and I was given no choice.

"OH awesome, The Fray ... they are so awesome you'll love it." My look must have conveyed something approaching concern. "Don't worry Christopher. Give it a few tracks."

I introduced myself as Chris. Only my mother used to call me Christopher. A few close friends do it to tease me, or to indicate that they are about to say something VERY facetious.

It was too late to say anything. The surgeon was back. Now with files and smoking-burning-poking things. The assistant snapped her latex gloves back on and I learned what hell was. Having your molar worked on your jaw cocked open for nearly two hours, no ability to spit -- your lips drying out from the stupid Utah dessert cold and dry weather. The surgeon laughs as the assistant sways to The Fray and sings a respectable 50 percent of the words.

"You know Dr., The Fray is pretty good. They are very similar to Lifehouse, but not as good."

I spit again. Only this time i have two hands in my mouth and metal thigns sticking in my tooth. I thank God I'm numb. The doctor laughs.

"I know real rock. I'm one of the only people you'll ever meet who saw the beatles live in concert."

"whar dib yu see dem" I pray he understands me.

"Texas, 1964. The hair on my arms raised at the sound of the band and the girls screaming. There's never been another night like it."

The Fray is whining in the background. Is a band with this name supposed to be this mellow and whine more than my indie rock and roll?

I was done. Rita was asking me how she could convince her dentist-to-be love interest to take her seriously. I told her to hold his hand, and she acted like a twelve year old. The CD ended and I thought I'd be done. No. The dental-tech pushed play and turned it louder as she cleaned up after the poor infected boy who had left before. Another half an hour and I was finally free.

The rest of the day was rather funny with a swollen tongue and an unresponsive left side of my face. I laughed to myself a lot and I didn't even get any drugs.