O'Rourke and Dentistry

P. J. O'Rourke was one of my favorite pundits. His missive All the Trouble in the World still leaves me roaring with laughter, even on the fifth read. 

He remarked once that for all the people who wished they had lived at earlier times in our history, he had one word: dentistry. Before modern dental practices, dentistry was painful. Oh, it may not be a walk in the until yet. But at least there are anesthetics and pain killers.

I think he's onto something.

Slight Comfort

I was able to start this week as so many people wish they could: an early Monday dentist appointment. Don't harbor any ill will towards me. Jealousy is so ugly.

It was simply to have my teeth cleaned, though. No needles or extractions or anything uncomfortable. Indeed the dental hygienist complimented me when the procedure was about halfway finished. "Are you doing okay, Mr. Cosgriff?"

"Mphh uhhh hmm uh huh," I answered. I mean, she had a small mirror, a pick of some sort, a water jet and a water vacuum in my mouth.

"Good, good," she responded. And then, as if to reassure me, "And you're not bleeding at all."

That was good news, considering that I had no expectations of bloodshed from a mere cleaning. But I made it a point to be a particularly cooperative patient after that.

Not So Bad

I've heard of painless dentistry but I didn't really believe in it. But now I think I do. 

I had a tooth extracted yesterday, and boy, was I dreading it. That my appointment was at five o'clock in the afternoon likely did not help. It gives you all day to think about it; anticipation is not a friend when getting a tooth pulled. The closer the time came the less fun Wednesday became.

However, it wasn't bad at all. Believe it or not, the numbing shot wasn't painful in the least. I didn't even feel it. Then he had the tooth out in maybe a half minute. I didn't believe him, didn't believe he was actually done that fast. But he was. The wound remaining hardly bled too.

All that worry and dread for nothing. Typical, isn't it?

Dental Veterinarians

Did I tell you about my dentist appointment last week? I did? Well, I'm sure I didn't tell you enough, so pull up a chair.

I'm getting crowns and a bridge, so they wanted to make molds of my teeth. As any of you who have had teeth molds made know, the excess of whatever gunk dentists use to make them tends to make you gag. So of course I began to gag. The dental assistant instructed me to 'breath through your nose and wiggle your toes'. Very Suessian. "It distracts the brain from the gag reflex," she somewhat helpfully explained. 

Consequently, I tried my best to become a nose breather and wiggling my nine-and-a halfs, wondering all the while where the candid camera was mounted, expecting to become the next internet sensation.

Later, the dentist and the DA (dental assistant - not what you just thought) were visually examining the alignment of my teeth. I kept my mouth closed while the dentist pulled my lips back with his fingers to see what things looked like. All I could think was, so this is what a horse feels like. Which leads me to the question:

Are dentists and vets all that different?

Temporary Crowns

Today is the day after, so to speak, and I'm wearing temporary crowns. On my teeth, because, you know, the crown on my head just won't come off. 

They're plastic, these temporaries, and they feel weird. They feel like those lead weights that you put on car wheels to balance them. You know what I mean? The ones that taste like metal?

Oh, for Heaven's sake. These things: Lead weight

It feels exactly like one those things are sitting inside my mouth. I know you know what I mean, that odd taste and feeling.

What's that? How do I know about the taste and feel?

Oh, would you lookit the time? I gotta get to work.

What Today Brings

Yesterday I had dental work done. It was supposed to be this Thursday, tomorrow as it is now, but my dentist had a spot come open at 5:30 Tuesday so I took it. May as well get things over with, right?

Almost immediately upon accepting the change of plans, the dread set in. No one really looks forward to major dental work, do they? Certainly not I. Now instead of living through the mental agony of the wait on Thursday I got to live through it Tuesday. Oh joy, oh rapture.

But that has its advantages. Tomorrow it'll be all behind me, and I'll get to watch baseball Opening Day live. My beloved Detroit Tigers first pitch of the season is set for 3:10 Thursday. I'd likely miss it if bound to the dentist's chair in the dental lair. Believe it or not, I nearly rescheduled my original appointment simply to catch the opener. Honest. Things, then, may be working out well after all.

As to the tooth work done and how I feel, well, that's Thursday's blog now, isn't it? Hopefully I won't be like Dr. Smith. You know, Dr. Smith: "Oh the pain, the pain." The accidental stowaway from Lost in Space? Remember he and the Robot and Will Robinson used to hang out. Do I have to explain everything?

Healthy Habits Can Poison You

Speaking of dental health - we were just speaking of it, weren't we? - one habit I have taken on in recent years is using mouthwash after brushing my teeth. The elixir of my choice has several advantages. It's alcohol free, freshens breath, and strengthens enamel, among other wonders. And it tastes good too. Hmmm...minty.

Yet in reading the label delinquently (I've been using the stuff for awhile now) I was slightly taken aback. The key warning on the bottle cautions that, should I accidentally swallow more mouthwash than the amount recommended for twice daily use, I should go immediately to a poison control center for treatment.

It seems to me we're walking a pretty fine line on dental health these days.

I Don't Have To If I Don't Want To

In the news today, I have a dentist appointment on March 8. Earth shattering, I know. It will be my first such check up in 15 or 17 years.

I've been avoiding it. I have lost two permanent teeth, both molars. The doctor, I fear, will be all talk about crowns and bridges, implants and dentures. I like to think I'm sensible enough to do what's best. Yet I hate to think about any of it. Add in my inherent male laziness about health in general, and you see why I kept putting off a visit to the dentist.

Then it occurred to me: so long as I pay for the initial examination, I don't have to do a doggone thing he says. There ain't nothing I gotta do without my own approval. So why not do my due diligence and find out what he thinks?

Still, that's a Hell of a way to convince yourself to do something for your own good, isn't it?