Brush Your Fucking Teeth

Thursday, January 31, 2008

I have never been militant about oral hygiene. Actually I've been quite lax. This doesn't mean I don't obsess about my teeth; I do. But my mom was a teacher and we had awesome dental insurance. I got fluoride ever single time I went to the dentist, which was once (or twice?) a year, until I was no longer eligible to be on her healthcare plans. I never had a cavity. Ever.

Fast forward to Fall '07. I get back from dinner with a friend and I'm inspecting the grill. I noticed something black on my back right molar. Oh fuck, I think. That's definitely not broccoli. I had an appointment to see the dentist in a few weeks (the first time in several years), but this couldn't wait. I obsess over shit like this. I called in for an emergency visit. I went in, got a filling, first cavity in 30 years, problem solved. But life is never that easy.

The filling was very sensitive. Liquids, food, pressure, even cold air would set it off. The fucking thing would hurt so bad it would hit the nerve in the right side of my face and throb and throb and throb. When I went in to see my regular dentist he said there was another cavity on the the front side of the tooth, and that the original cavity was located in such a spot that it had probably entered the nerve space. And do we know what happens when a cavity enters the nerve space, children? Me neither. But he did. Fucking root canal.

I suffered through the first visit like a champ. He drilled away the majority of the nerve, put a cotton plug in there and a temporary "sedative" filling. I needed a visit to a specialist to finish the rest. Then he said "some people suffer discomfort from the cotton plug expanding if they fly." Chalk up another one, I had a trip to Europe scheduled in a few weeks. Overall I did fine. Pain flaired up occasionally, but I'm tough. At least it didn't hurt when I breathed cold air.

Fast forward to today. Visit with the specialist. 8:45am. I'm scared shitless. Don't ask me why I was more afraid of this visit, anxiety doesn't really make much sense. Might have had something to do with the vision in my head of this dude using a file to remove the nerves in my tooth. I get there, they guy shoots me with novocaine and I get the shakes. Not a big deal, happens to me sometimes when I'm freaked out, usually goes away quickly. Then they say they have to put a dental dam in so the tooth shit doesn't get in my mouth. Imagine a big square of that latex they use to make dishwashing gloves stuffed into your mouth. They don't do the normal thing where they suck out your saliva, because it's all trapped behind the dam. Choking you. Awesome. Then, I guess because of the dam, they can't get me to open wide enough to get up in there (could also be because I was still fucking shaking) so they stick a thing in my mouth to hold my jaw open. Forget the dude removing the nerve in my tooth with small metal instruments, forget the rubber glove in my mouth slowly suffocating me with my own spit, this jaw thing fucking hurts. I can only go about 5 minutes at a time without asking for a break. My jaw is on fire. Luckily when he starts to do the filing they remove it. When it's all over the assistant says, "I'm so sorry for you." Sympathy is nice. But my jaw still hurts and they didn't give me any prescription medication.

Moral of the story: Brush your fucking teeth. For once in your life, listen to advice given by someone else that has gone through the pain and suffering so you don't have to go through the pain and suffering yourself.

(I now use mouthwash and brush in the morning, brush at least once, usually twice at work, and then I floss and brush once more with prescription toothpaste at home before bed. I will be seeing the dentist every 6 months. Fluoride treatments every 3 months. If my teeth rot, it will be no fault of my own.)