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Going To The Dentist Is Like Being Abducted By Aliens

For those of you who are terrified of the dentist, you are not alone. It doesn’t help that my first visit to the dentist was far too late in life….. *cringes* 24. By then the damage was done. A broken tooth, four wisdom teeth that need extracting and 9 cavities that needed filled. We won’t go into WHY I didn’t go to the dentist before this age, but it was the way it was. The way it was, was not a good idea. Not. Good. At. All. Also, am I the only one who thinks going to the dentist is a whole lot like being abducted by aliens?

Going To The Dentist Is Like Being Abducted By Aliens

My first tooth cleaning went well enough, until they stuck metal into a cavity and sent me through the roof. ‘Holy crap, if this how a teeth cleaning feels, this ought to be fun’. The x-rays….a breeze. Now to find out the damage. The dentist came in and with a smile on his face he proceeds to tell me that he has to remove half my face, most of which I’ll be awake for, but not to worry they have some cool gas they can hook me up to mellow me out and smooth jazz in the headphones (just in case the gas isn’t mellow enough). Mmmkay…. I’m gonna run right up to the front desk to make that appointment.

First step: Maxilofacial Specialist to have wisdom teeth and the broken tooth extracted. The guy was a friggin’ genius. He put me out like a light, I woke up and they were gone. Totally alien like, but no problemo.

Second step: Cavities…SUPER Alien Like. They stick this gigantic blue tarp in my mouth and ask me questions about how long I’ve lived here. Um, you do see this tarp preventing me from speaking right? The tube coming out the side of my face sucking out the gallon of water you’re spraying in there, along with my spit….What was the question again?? Oh great, now there is a 5 inch needle being jammed through the roof of my mouth narrowly missing my brain…. and he asks, “Did that hurt?” ‘Are you sure you went to school for this’…If looks could kill, that dentist would have been laying in a pool of my drool and tears. I survived that day, along with the technicians and dentist…and the ONLY reason I was going back was to get my “broken” tooth replaced, and that would require a bridge. I don’t know how bridges are now, but 20 years ago…it would not be a bridge I would cross again. I would literally burn that bitch to the ground. To. The. Ground.

Third step: The building of the bridge. This is when the aliens took over. Hitting the nitrous oxide on full setting, a bright, blinding light blaring down on me and people in masks and protective eye-wear leaning over my face, a lovely blue tarp in place….they drilled…. no, no…it was more like ground down 2 perfectly good molars to serve as anchors for my false tooth. Now, I’m no dentist but it seems like if something isn’t broke, don’t grind it to a pulp. Am I wrong? I mean, I get the reason WHY they did it, I just think there could have been a better way. Think about it: what is under the enamel of your tooth? Nerves? Right? So, for what seemed like centuries, with every rotation of the drill, every breath I took was cold air on those ground down, nerve bearing teeth sending multiple shocks of agony through the top of my head.

After drilling, they decided to gag me with a mouth full of paste and the cherry on top was to hold all that paste in your mouth and shove Mike Tysons mouth piece in there too. Now shut your mouth and sit like that for a while. Enjoy the smooth jazz. The moment of relief was when they put the temporary bridge in. Oh, sweet relief, but temporary…which meant I had to come back. ‘Crap’.

The fourth and final Step: A beautiful new smile…of course I went back…because I couldn’t quit now, that would be stupid. Although, I had a few anxiety attacks before I even got there, because I knew, in order to get this dazzling new bridge, they have to take the temporary one off. I knew it would hurt like hell and it did….so, there I am holding my hand over mouth try to keep those fragile, mutilated teeth warm and thinking to myself, ‘Oh for the love of all that is holy, get my bridge in. Are they still making it or what? No, I think they may have been admiring their work before so kindly bringing it out it on a golden pillow made of sweet relief. FINALLY….that final moment when they set it and all is said and done, I run, not walk for the door. You don’t stick around to see if aliens have anything else planed for you, after all.

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