I cannot feel my teeth. Logic dictates that this means I could, in fact, feel my teeth before. How is it that I have never noticed this? I notice similar things, for example, I noticed that I cannot feel my hair, unless someone is pulling it. I can always feel my knee, because, despite the normal aging expectations of the human body, my knee has steadily out-aged me and is now nearing its fiftieth year.
I came to this understanding when I went to sleep, or more accurately, when I tried to sleep. I never quite succeeded in this goal, because my tooth insisted, painfully, that I remain awake. And so my nights took a collegiate turn. As you might expect, the toothache party didn’t stop the next evening.
After the second night came to its much appreciated end, I decided I had a serious (and possibly paranormal) problem. Clearly my tooth had been possessed by an evil spirit. My father, however, assured me that this wasn't the case. He insisted that I had something called an "abscess" and that I would probably need a "root canal." Being raised in a heavily sitcom influenced era, I understood these phrases to be inherently painful, and as such, I instinctively feared them.
I knew what I needed—but there was no shaman available, so I called my dentist instead. He (his assistant) told me to come in the next morning. One more night should be easy enough to handle (it wasn’t.)
Imagine my relief the next morning, after several x-rays and a series of commands where I was directed to “bite down and hold,” when I discovered that I wouldn't have to have a root canal. "You see," my dentist explained to me, "You already have a root canal. A root canal is actually a part of your tooth. It's the inside, it's also known as the dental pulp, and it’s how your teeth actually grow. Once the teeth are mature, the dental pulp begins to function as sensory nerves. (It also serves as a relaxing vacation spot for microbial infections, and therefore intense and abundant amounts of pain.) What we're going to do is actually called endodontic therapy."
Of course I had no idea what he meant, but going by my earlier interpretation of root canal I decided that making the phrase more complicated and adding the word "therapy" (a word clearly intended to soothe) to the end could only be synonymous with "more pain."
Next, he told me he needed to drill into my tooth, and take said dental pulp out. After he was through with that, he would proceed to fill my recently pulp-vacated tooth with what can accurately and quite scientifically be called "melty goop." He assured me I wouldn’t feel a thing, Novocain, it turns out, is a very successful anesthetic.
Somewhere between him discussing drilling into my tooth with the same offhanded attitude one could expect to hear in regards to the weather and sticking rather large needles into my rather fleshy gums, I began to regret my earlier decision to stop looking for a shaman, or at least an apprentice exorcist.
However, one look at my dentist's tools and I realized that I had, against the odds, found my man. He had scissors, pokers and scrapers, various needles and a lighter (a tool whose purpose I could only assume, was to light things on fire—in my mouth), shaman indeed.
A couple Sports Center reruns later, (subtitled, by what I can only assume to be a third grader on his fifth espresso of the morning) my dentist had waved his magic wand six times (that's code for stabbing me in my gums with the previously mentioned needles—six times) and I no longer felt my teeth. (Or my lips, left cheek or tongue.)
It is an odd sensation, having something inside one of your teeth, and vibrating at high speeds. I felt no actual pain (that would come later), just the standard discomfort of having two people leaning over me while waving around tools that could also be considered weapons. Had my hands been strapped to the chair, the movie might have taken a darker turn.
Instead of that horror scenario, he wrapped up his exorcism with the professional grace and speed expected of a high class dentist (shaman.) and told me in the smiliest manner possible that he would see me again in three weeks. Of course, he had just made two hundred dollars (beyond the deductable) and had been the one holding the drill (and the lighter.)
In amendment to this article, I find it to be important to note, that my father, unknown to me, traveled to my very dentist (Shaman.) later that afternoon for his very own appointment. I'm not calling this a guarantee, but let's call it likely (Outside of Mayberry, NC.) that my father and I are the first father son combo to get a root canal (Endodontic therapy.) on the same day, by the same dentist, (And Dental Assistant.)in the same chair, (Presumably with the same, hopefully cleaned, tools. Including the lighter.)on the same (And I'm not kidding about this.) tooth. (Not exact same, for all of you literals out there, but rather, the same tooth position.)
Follow Dave's adventures in dentistry three weeks from now in: the Demon Tooth 2: The Crown
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