Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Perils of the Medieval Age


Perils of the Medieval Age

When I was little I loved my pediatrician.  Dr. Sandy Matthews was a white haired fellow with penchant for speaking his mind.  The bonus of this character trait was that he would occasionally rate my opinions higher than those of my Mother.  This was a rare event, and from my vantage point on the examining table it was an event I thoroughly enjoyed observing.  “She is too young to shave her legs”, my Mother would state with conviction.  “Oh, don’t be silly.  No she’s not.”, came the astonishing professional reply.  Needless to say, I loved Dr. Matthews and rather hated eventually growing too old to visit him. 

My dentist, on the other hand, was not my favourite.  His office was in a rambling old house on Peachtree Street with cavernous rooms, dark wooden floors and ceilings as high as church and he possessed the rather unfortunate name of Dr. Funkhouser.  This moniker sounded entirely too much like a mad scientist to me particularly when combined with his small squinty stature, his crisp white coat and his tray of lethal-looking dental instruments.  Who can possibly look upon those needle-sharp tools and not be unnerved?

I would approach each appointment with Dr. Funkhouser with as much trepidation as a child can muster, certain that this visit would be the visit he would find the dreaded cavity and therefore have the opportunity to use those brier-sharp weapons on me.  I would sit in that strangely tilted chair with my little head held back, mouth open, eyes shut tight, with that bright interrogation light shining hot in my face and I would wait for the inevitable.  But no luck for Dr. Funkhouser; he never found a cavity in my mouth.  After the perilous experience was over he would instruct me to go to a large drawer in his desk and take a treat.  Inside that drawer were lollypops and suckers, jawbreakers and gum - a smorgasbord of sugar that told me just how badly he hoped to find a cavity next time out.  So I would avoid the candy entirely and choose a tiny puzzle instead.  Then I would throw him a knowing look of triumph and leave as fast as I could.  Terrified of that tray of dental instruments, so shiny and so sharp, I brushed and flossed religiously all through my cavity-free childhood.

Dentists will no doubt refute this assessment of their profession, but for someone as phobic about dentistry as myself, the whole thing does not seem to have progressed too far past the medieval age.   As far as I’m concerned there might as well still be pigs on straw in the waiting rooms.  Those instruments of torture are still on display, as polished and keenly honed as ever.  And I am still, frankly, terrified.  So when a diabolically dense peppercorn found the one weak spot in one of my upper back molars and cracked it decisively in two, I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.  What I did not expect was to hear that the tooth was beyond hope, would, in fact, need to be pulled and I would have to have an implant installed.  I received this disturbing news after I had been given novocaine which, as you may know, involves injections in my mouth.  Needles.  In My Mouth. See what I mean?  Medieval. 
  
The removal of my tooth was a horrid experience, one I was not sufficiently prepared for, and one I shall not soon forget.  No, I did not feel pain as I was numb up past my eyeballs.  Instead I felt as though my head were collapsing in on itself, turning me inside out like a sock.  I left my dentist’s office that day determined never to darken his door again.  I would not get an implant.  No.  I would simply be minus one tooth.  That wasn’t so awfully bad, was it?  Who knows, I thought, maybe I can learn to squirt water out the side of my mouth like a clown and thus have a hilarious, albeit unexpected, party trick with which to entertain my friends and relations.  

Of course cooler heads (namely The Songwriter’s) prevailed and last week saw the black letter day roll round.  (The procedure was to involve, I was informed, even though I tried not to be, the placement of a steel post into my bone.  Immediately, a mental picture of medieval torture flashed into my head and I asked not to be told anything further.)    It was also the day when it was confirmed that one anxiety pill makes me relaxed but two knocks me clear into next week.  The dentist recommended this dosage and he probably knew what he was doing because the two hour ordeal seemed like fifteen minutes to me. Upon returning home, I fell into bed and slept till morning at which time I was told by The Songwriter that Edward had pushed him right out of bed during the night in his utter insistence on keeping watch over me.  The big white dog slept all night with his head on my tummy.  Edward, who once broke his own back molar and had to have it removed, knows about dentistry.

I do regret the loss of my newly acquired party trick.
I suppose it’s back to interpretive dance. 

****


23 comments:

  1. I shuddered my way through this with you. My dental appointments are the worst days of the entire year. You've expressed it so well. And the poor little guy on the video - hilarious! How sweet of Edward to watch over you so well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. What a humorous post. I was terrified of dentists, too, as a child. Unfortunately, candy and cokes did bad things to my teeth, and I had reason to be, as I endured more than one filling during the course of my childhood and adolescence. I go regularly to my dentist now for periodic teeth cleaning, and I truly like the dentist I have now.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ooo, that's awful what you had to go through. I hope you are feeling better, and both you and Edward are more relaxed.

    I had my first implant in 1968. It was a Mack truck of a tooth. Almost 40 years, I was hit in the mouth playing with the kids. A few days later, during a huge sneeze the wiggling cap flew off into the garden to never be seen again, (by me at least).

    ReplyDelete
  4. You captured the dark side of dentistry very well and I am glad your ordeal is over. Our dentist is very upbeat and humorous. I told him his humor is a great plus and he realizes it is.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Oh, dear! I am so sorry you had such a bad experience. I HATE going to the dentist, too.

    ReplyDelete
  6. My dentist's name is Dr. Tough. No lie. He's lovely though which makes up for the name. Sorry to read of your troubles...may it never happen again!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Well, leave it to Edward to save you!!
    I know you are recovering well, my friend, though it always seems like torture to the patient, no matter what the procedure is. The Songwriter and boys will keep you smiling and, therefore, you will recover sooner. xx's

    ReplyDelete
  8. When my very last molar broke, in similar fashion to your description, I choose to not get an implant. No once can see that missing spot and my bite and chewing have been just fine. I'm with you on dentists...they are probably very nice people but their profession seems not to have changed very much over the decades.
    I love the Edward sensed your need and stayed right be your side. :-)
    xo,
    Karen

    ReplyDelete
  9. Pamela, years ago when I needed to have two wisdom teeth removed, which were trying to come in sideways, my dentist said, I could remove these for you but I think you might rather have it done by an oral surgeon. He was right, of course, and after a wonderful oral surgeon gave me a bit of sodium pentathol, it turned out to be a piece of cake to get those two suckers outta there. Didn't have to take so much as an aspirin for pain. Wish you had had someone like him to remove your tooth. Edward's skills at providing comfort could still have been put to use. :-) I think the biggest pain in dentistry nowadays is the bill. But so is everything else when the bill arrives.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Having worked in the dental profession, I have no fear and I think that the fear is the unknown. I have had an implant and I was intrigued and interested in the whole procedure ….. as long as I'm numb, I'm fine !!
    I just have to say to Karen that, although you can't see where you have a missing tooth, it's best to get something done as other things come into play. The opposing tooth will descend , the teeth either side of the hole will move into the space and cause other problems …. Sorry, just a bit of advice from someone who knows !!!! I'm glad that The Songwriter coaxed you into sorting it out Pamela. XXXX

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Jacqueline, you are spot on about other things happening when you lose a tooth. And, even more dire things I won't go into could happen in the future that could keep a person from eating. Very wise to take care of the problem when it arises.

      Delete
  11. You deserve a medal. The thought of having a metal post inserted in my jaw bone is causing my eyes to water as I type. This visceral loathing of the dentist stems from a dour Scottish dentist as a child. Patient friendly he was not . Like Dr Funkhouser but without the treats.

    ReplyDelete
  12. I do hope you are recovered!
    What a terrifying ordeal. I feel for you!

    ReplyDelete
  13. How I laughed at your account - I think we could all identify with it. And Bravo Edward for your love and attention.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Oh I do I understand! I'm so glad that experience is over for you. And now you can go to Scotland with it behind you. I really hate going to the dentist, even though I have one of the best! Take care, Pamela.
    xx Sunday

    ReplyDelete
  15. We're on the same page in the same book plus I get SO annoyed when the employees are encouraged (do they receive a bonus?) to push x-rays! I've a friend who has worked for the same dentist for almost 30 years. She told me she had x-rays taken the first couple of years she worked there and never since. Why? Because unless one has sustained some sort of mouth/head injury or there is a certifiable problem, x-rays aren't necessary every year. What they are is a HUGE profit margin for the office.
    OTOH, last year, when due to age (so my dentist told me), one of my teeth cracked vertically and I needed a cap.He was able to use a portion of my own tooth and no implant was necessary. I'm sitting here, counting my blessings as I have both a high tolerance to pain AND a high tolerance to meds. By the time they got me under, I would have stayed under for days.
    One last comment (whew, you say), Dr. Kennedy was my favorite dentist. On one visit I pointed to a dark place on a tooth and asked about it. "Are you planning on going to China as a missionary and not returning for a decade or two?" he asked. "Absolutely not!" I replied. Dr. Kennedy said, "Don't worry about it because I'm not. He later moved to Alaska because he felt stifled in the lower 48. Gosh, I miss that man!

    ReplyDelete
  16. Pamela it really was like torture when we were young (not that it is a fun visit now)!
    Unfortunately I have had a LOT of dental work done over the years!
    xoxo
    Karena
    The Arts by Karena

    ReplyDelete
  17. This post had my husband and I clutching our sides with laughter. He shares your phobia. Just as well that I was the one who had a gum graft this year instead of him. While I enjoyed the anti-anxiety medication, I do miss the laughing gas of yesteryear. I once told my dentist I loved him while under the influence.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Dr Funkhauser - you couldn't make it up. My dentist anesthetizes the spot where she is going to inject with something that tastes like cherries. It's lovely. I used to work for two dentists and ever since then I've been able to relax in the chair.

    ReplyDelete
  19. This is off
    this hilarious topic, but I had to share- just got the newest Victoria magazine, and Scotland in Autumn is the focus!! Pining for the highlands in a big way. Also found a very cool online shop in the back called Figments Studio. They have the coolest journals with artwork from Waterhouse (one of my favorites). Passing on a good thing.

    ReplyDelete
  20. You are one of the best blog writers I have ever come across. It helps that we are both obsessed with the same things: books, dogs, England, books, nature, dogs, England....that kind of thing.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Oh, my jaw hurt as I read this. Mom had an unerring knack for finding one bad dentist after another. Probably the worst - but it's close - was a woman who had done her training in Moscow, Moscow, Russia, not Moscow Idaho. Naturally upon arrival, she was required to take some kind of course in New York to get her license, but as I tried desperately to explain to my parents, there can't be someone at the top of the class unless someone else is at the bottom. Years later, her work was all redone by a lovely pediatric dentist who let me start all over, Mr Happy Tooth, clown-shaped x-Ray machine and all (although he mercifully gave me adult doses of anesthetic).

    ReplyDelete
  22. It is very disconcerting to lose a tooth. Love how Edward took care of you. He is SO special. Love him!

    ReplyDelete

I love to read your comments! Each and every one! Though I'm always reading your comments, I may not respond in the comment section. If you want to write me directly, you may do so at pamela@pamelaterry.net. Thank you for reading!