Of Compulsive Flossing and Super Powers

I hate dentists. When I was still in high school I went in for a teeth cleaning. That guy was an incarnation of Satan. Not in the good way. Every part of my mouth he touched hurt. Now I know why he was wearing a mask. It was to hide the glee he took in inflicting pain. Evil Bastard. That’s what he was, and so was the rest of the staff. Short version is that I avoided going to the dentist. I had adopted the notion that they were all evil bastards intent on causing pain.

I went 19 years without seeing a dentist. Add to that the fact that for a good number of years I thought turning 30 would be the end of the world.

Wednesday afternoon one of my teeth started to hurt. Now this tooth, it had caused me a bit of pain in the past, but I wasn’t going to see an Evil Bastard. Any of them. The pain got worse. Vitamin ‘I’ just wasn’t doing it. By 11pm I was taking about 1gram of ibuprofen an hour. When Thursday morning eventually came, which seemed to take it’s sweet ass time to get there, I knew that either I was going to take the tooth out, or I was going to have to visit an Evil Bastard.

This was a tough decision.

I had waited too long. Buried my head in the sand and hoped that everything would be ok. I began to call around to find a dentist that could see me right away. Perhaps if I’d been to the dentist in say, the last 19 years, I’d know that Evil Bastards take Thursdays off. Close to an hour of calling later I reach an Evil Bastard that has a nice receptionist. She said that the Evil Bastard, she didn’t call him that of course, could see me as soon as I could get there. On one hand, I was relieved; the pain might stop soon. On the other hand, there was a good chance that this Evil Bastard was a big enough sadist that having a sweet and concerned sounding receptionist just added to the fun; I could almost hear the whir of a drill bit in the background. I told the Evil Bastards pain thrall that I’d be there as soon as I could. I got directions and headed out the door. The EB’s office was next to the states largest shopping center. As I got close, there seemed to be a lot of police everywhere. The street that I’d planned on taking was closed. Blocked off by cruisers. Did they open a Krispy Kreme? I parked a few blocks away and walked in agony.

When I got the office, the minion of pain behind the desk did a great job of pretending that she was worried about me. After filling out the Patient Information Survey, or was it “Your Going To Scream And By Signing This, We Get To Enjoy It”, I was seated with a glorious view of the Pacific Ocean. The Evil Bastard showed up a moment later. He wasn’t wearing a mask. Ok, now what does that mean? We talked a bit. He asked for a little history, and I told him that all Dentists were Evil Bastards. Ok, so I managed to be a tad politically correct at that point. He explained the pain scale from one to ten, with one being a little pain. I told him that the previous night and that morning I was at eight to nine. I told him that I was at a six then. This is all before I opened my mouth. He said that he needs to take a look and will not touch anything. He looked, and kept his word. I saw this as just another little thing to make me lower my guard. He applied some topical pain numbing gel to the tooth and gums around the tooth and did a closer inspection. His minion took an x-ray of the tooth. EB kept asking me where the pain level was, saying that the longer I could go without getting a pain shot, the better blah blah blah. I honestly don’t remember why. I figured it was bullshit and just glee seeking.

When the x-ray came back he told me it was a badly abscessed tooth and gave me three options:
1. He could give me some pain meds and I’d end up in more pain. (I read this as pulling my own tooth out with pliers in the garage)
2. He could drill an opening and relieve some of the pressure, but it would be just a matter of time before it became infected again.
3. He could pull the tooth and there was a good chance that the pain and infection would go away.

This is the point where everything seemed very surreal. I had been in some serious pain for about 20 hours. I managed to get about a hour of sleep when I chased eight 750mg Ibuprofen with rot gut vodka. I must have said I would have to think about it as he asked for the pain number (now seven) and walked away. Was he really going to take my tooth out.. just like that? In retrospect, it doesn’t seem all that implausible, I was thinking of doing it myself. There was an even chance that Doctor Pain Bringer was going to at least pretend to numb my aching tooth. When he came back I told him to yank it. He used a topical numbing patch on the roof of my mouth and said that the roof of the mouth is very thick. When he was ready to give me the first shot, he said “This will hurt, but it’s going to feel better in two seconds. Ready?” I mumbled yes and while I wasn’t looking, he swapped the needle with a dull pencil. That was a 9 on the pain-o-meter. It was a long pencil too. I counted onemississippi twomississippi threemississippi FOURMISSISSIPPI FIVEMISSISSIPPI SIXMIssissippi and the pain dropped back down to a seven. A tear had dripped down into my right ear. He gave me brief nod and said he’d come back in five minutes and the pain should be at zero. “Finally”, I thought to myself.

(I realize that this blog has Flossing and Super Powers in the title and I’ve yet to mention either. They’re coming)

I tried to pay attention to the pain and by pure force of will, make it recede. Very slowly, it dropped to six, and then to five. The dentist came back, and asked how I was doing. I said, “Five.” and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“Hmm, we need that to be zero. Let’s get you another shot then” as he thrust the needle (Yes, the needle this time) into the roof of my mouth. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When he came back, the pain was no longer in my tooth, but in my whole jaw bone on one side, and the roof of my mouth was almost flat from the teeth on one side to the teeth on the other. When he returned, I mumbled “Four” and the look on his face was genuine astonishment.
“A few more minutes” he said turning and walking away.
The pain had not subsided when he returned the second time. He gave me the third shot into the pincushion, er, roof of my mouth and walked away to talk with his staff.
When he returned, the pain had gone away, though the feeling of surrealism had increased ten fold. I told him zero and he wiggled the angry tooth to confirm. I could feel it moving, but the pain was gone. Of course, my entire head was numb, including the opposite side ear.

(Gory tooth removal details here – removed so I don’t wright a Michener novel)

He finished up and told me that the abscess was worse than the x-ray showed. If all went well, I should heal up fine. He packed some gauss into the gap and told me to bite down Delirious, I got up, thanked him and went to settle my account. He wrote me a prescription for Vicadin and Amoxacillin and headed off to the next patient. As I spoke with the nice receptionist about my follow up appointment and current charges, the pain began to creep back. By the time she had run my charge card the pain was back up to a five. This was 20 minutes after the dentist (yes, I did not call him an evil bastard) had finished. Not wanting to be a wuss, I tried to deal with it. As the pain rose, my ability to pay attention to the receptionist failed. I asked her if it was supposed to hurt and she scurried off to get the dentist.

I’d like to say that the look on the dentists face was.. something interesting.. but I just don’t recall.
He asked, “Where’s the…”
“Slebin” I mumbled with a mouth full of pain and soggy guass.
He hurried me over to a chain and popped ten to twelve shots into my mouth, along the gums and swollen roof of my mouth. He was very surprised to see some one shrug off three shots and said that those shots should have lasted at least three hours. The new shots usually last eight hours, though he thought that I would only get four or so. He told me to go fill the prescriptions and go home, I was going to be in for a long day. The pain gradually dropped down to around two, which is below where I usually bust out Vitamin I. Heading back to the office (I blame that on the drugs), I started to feel a little tired.

Walking into the office, I do remember seeing the looks on people’s faces. I must have looked like shit. After stumbling around the office for a few minutes I was sent home.

I drove to the drug store and decided to close my eyes for a bit. I passed out for an hour and a half. The pain was back. Vicadin only took the edge off the pain. I ended up taking the Vicadin with 750mg of Ibuprofen so I could focus enough to work.

I feel privileged. Most people don’t ever get to discover what their Super Power is. Mine? I’m nearly immune to certain pain medications. When I called the dentist, such a fine fellow, and told him how quickly the medication wore off, he said that in 17 years of dentistry, he’d never had someone metabolize the painkillers that quickly.

But what about the flossing, you ask?

At my follow up visit, a week later, the hygenist taught me about flossing. Lack of flossing is why that tooth got abscessed.
Fear of a pencil being driven through the roof of my mouth has turned me into a compulsive flosser. I carry floss with me now.

Thanks for reading.. go floss your teeth.
And make sure to get down into the gums.

Maarburg.

Current meatspace coordinates:
N21 18'43.98 W158 01'06.29
Elevation: 12ft
(accurate to within 16ft)