Getting Your Teeth Cleaned

I had an appointment today with my periodontist, which I will call Dr. Smiley, because he smiles a lot and makes me smile even though I have a tough time getting my teeth cleaned. I'm one of those people whose gums are so sensitive that in order to get my teeth cleaned, I need to have Novocaine, and not just a little but probably enough for a small elephant.

I have had my teeth cleaned by a number of dentists throughout my life. I have dropped and changed them many a times. Very much like some professional players get traded. The last dental hygienist actually "traded" me in to someone else, my present periodontist, Dr. Smiley. I knew I was about to get the big send-off . My dental hygienist went to drink her last swig of her bottle of water. This seemed to be something she did a lot when she was treating me. At first, I assumed she had a condition which left her extremely dehydrated. But after a number of visits, it appeared to me (Psych major) that her thirst-quenching habits were actually a nervous reaction, kind of like when someone develops a twitch when facing extremely testing situations. I realized it was me! She simply announced to me that she could not treat my extremely sensitive gums and that I needed to see a periodontist that would be able to treat my gums more professionally. In other words, she dumped me!

I walk in the door to Dr. Smiley's office. I actually enjoy the few minutes before I have to go into the dental chair because I get to read all the latest magazines (this is something I rarely get a chance to do with three kids at home). The dental hygienist, Janice, takes me to the dental office and I lie down in the chair. This room contains a multitude of machines and tools that look rather suspicious to the untrained eye. There is also the mandatory spit sink and a strong light is suspended over my head. Every time I stare at the light, I visualize someone telling me, "We have ways of making you talk." If I worked for the CIA or the FBI and I was taken hostage, all they would have to do is tell me they would clean my teeth without Novocaine. I am sure I would certainly tell them more than my name and social security number. I am a woman that had three children, one natural and two cesareans, but for reasons that escape me and others I cannot stand the pain of getting my teeth cleaned.

Janice set me up on the dental chair. I was lying down, with a bib attached to my neck, a long tube inside my mouth to suck the saliva out. I guess she didn't think I could muster enough energy to swallow my own saliva. There was no dignity to this procedure at all. As I have learned in the past, you check your dignity at the door whenever entering a medical office.

Dr. Smiley came in wearing his surgical latex gloves. He instructs one of the girls standing by to leave. I noticed he whispers in her ears. She then closes the partition which separates me from the other patients in the waiting room. I look at him. He looks at me. We then start laughing out loud. I know he knows that I know he told her to close the door so I wouldn't scare his patients when I screamed.

Sometimes I would close my eyes and scream even before Dr. Smiley actually injected my gums. He would ask me why. I would tell him I needed the practice. He would laugh. Dr. Smiley would then inflict pain on my lower lip by pulling it as far as it could go before injecting the Novocaine. He explained to me that this is a technique to distract me from the injection of the syringe itself. I still didn't buy it. I closed my eyes and held my breath. Holding my breath was something I automatically did without thinking when I had to deal with really harsh medical situations. There had been times when my doctors would get concerned and asked me to breathe out. I guess I was turning blue. This was a practice that I had done when I was in labor with each of my three children. The doctors had to give me oxygen each time so I wouldn't pass out.

Janice would then come in and clean my teeth for about half an hour. She would then polish my teeth. When it was all done, I would spit into the sink. I saw clumps of blood. Janice assured me this was normal as my blood was coagulating normally. Whew, that was assuring! Also, more information than I wanted to know.

I looked into the mirror and see a distorted face with a swollen lip. I sometimes attempted to go shopping if I had time left before picking up my children. Of course, I tried not to speak to any salespeople since I found myself having a speech impediment and drooled part of the time because the Novocaine was still in effect. I would then go home and take a few Advils.

I always wondered about my medical file. It probably read "difficult" like Elaine in the Seinfeld episode in which she tried to steal her medical file, Mine probably read "screamer". I hoped, though, it included "funny screamer"!