The Chair

Monday morning at 9:30 I was in "The Chair".

Let me first say that this is the coziest dentist's office I've ever been in. Nothing like my old dentist's office in the city- cold white walls, sterile, contemporary, clinical. This is the country, and things here are homey. The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the smell. Not the ususal "dentist office smell", but the aroma of fresh coffee. The reception area boasted an old fireplace with a thick wood mantle, a braided rug lay on the floor, and there was a colorful quilt hanging on one of the sandy colored walls. In the corner was an old whitewashed buffet and hutch, a creeping ivy set on top with leafy green tendrils trailing down its sides. This hutch displayed simple white mugs on its shelves and the coffee pot that was responsible for the delicious aroma was happily gurgling away. How welcoming! If these things were supposed to help patients feel relaxed, it worked. The soothing colors of the walls, the tranquil beach scene framed above the mantle... Even climbing into "The Chair" wasn't that bad. A large window looked out in to the back yard, framing yet another peaceful scene. A white fence running behind a maple tree, and a colorful trio of bird houses on a platform beside the tree. How nice! This wasn't going to be so bad after all...

Five needles, 45 minutes and a whole lot of pressure later, the tooth finally emerged from its socket. IT WAS HELL!! I thought the worst part was when he scraped inside the socket after the tooth was out and hit my jaw bone. Or maybe it was when he was putting so much pressure on the tooth that I thought my jaw was going to pop out of joint on the other side. Boy, was I wrong.

Before I go any further, let my just say that I am not ususally a whimp. I have had a toenail ripped completely off, and went to work minutes later. I have managed to carry on with a cracked rib. I have given birth three times without drugs and went shopping two days later. I have dealt with wisdom tooth pain, canker sore pain, sprained ankle pain, bladder infection pain, pain of all sorts. This is by far the worst.

The day after the extraction, I called the office. Was my socket supposed to look like that? I expected it to hurt some, but should it really be hurting this much? It's getting worse, not better. Is it maybe infected? Two days after the extraction, I'm sitting in "The Chair" again. It turns out that I have something called "Dry Socket" and it's not a good thing. Something about not enough blood to form a clot, exposed bone and nerve endings. And pain. Lots of it. Two needles, more scraping, some white knuckles and sweaty palms, the dentist puts something that smells like cloves into the gaping hole in my mouth. Funky. He writes me a prescription for some Tylenol 3 with Codene, and I leave with 80 dollars less in the bank just for this visit. Monday's visit, which was supposed to cost $60 ended up costing $150 because it became "surgical" . The translation for this is "We're puttin' the screws to ya!" So far, we're up to $230 for this tooth. So far....

It's now Friday, and I'm still hurting a lot. The Tylenol isn't working. Nothing is working. And I have three HUGE cankers on the gums under my tongue, where he gave me the needles to freeze me. Those don't help anything either. I don't want to go in again (can't afford to!!), but it's looking like I might need to. When I went in on Wednesday, he told me that about 5-10 percent of patients with extractions get Dry Socket. Usually smokers. I don't smoke. Leave it to me to be one of the few... He also asked me if my jaw was hurting, because his arm was still sore two days later. Funny guy. He told me the story of how he had a guy in the very same chair the day before, who had 6 teeth pulled, and it took half an hour to get them all out. Lucky bastard. I know who it is and he'll not be feeling any pain. He's at the bar all the time, and carries a pretty good stash at all times. Note to self... call him.

I should have told Mr.Dentist that I feel like I might have stopped a brick wall with my face, that giving birth was less painful than this, that I would gladly try any sort of drug now, legal or not, if it would stop the pain I'm feeling in my mouth. I should have mentioned that I think my husband is plotting to have me "taken care of", because I haven't eaten or slept in many days because of the pain and I am making his life and everyone else's a living hell. But instead, I politely thanked him and went on my way. As best as I could anyway. It may have sounded a bit like "Thanks for screwing me over, ya sadistic bastard", you know, with the freezing and all.