Fun with Dentistry on my day off (again)

Heaven from every side is closed.

–Mother Teresa

I thought it was going to be a routine dental check-up and was dead wrong. It was Deep-Tissue Cleaning Day and the festivities began with six (fucking SIX) Novocain shots. With fillings done over the past 3 visits I thought I was through with all that…I was more upset my eyeteeth had been blinded with an ugly surprise than the actual needles.

The needles, as always, were hot.

I didn’t see God, just a poster with idiot multicultural models smiling in support of a teeth-whitening procedure. In the Age of Photoshop how could anyone trust such a thing?

The most painful aspect was the dentist delivering the goods. He was younger than me and looked like a handsome pilot right out of Top Gun, the other Alpha-Hunk archetype that women fantasize about when the bare-chested, long-haired horse- and motorcycle-riding rebel is off being rebellious.

“Sorry about this,” Gun said sincerely as the needle plunged. A hot tear welled up in my right eye, not from pain but from imagining he was apologizing for life so far and not the endless wasp sting in the roof of my mouth.

Even remembering Bukoswki (“People’s mouths were even uglier than their assholes.”) didn’t help.

Top Gun left for good after the shots and I stopped feeling like a helpless 10-year-old with a go-nowhere paper route.

The pleasant Filipina who’d been my main girl did the cleaning. She worked free of judgment but I felt embarrassed all the same. How bad was the damage that my teeth had to be numbed to get to the problem areas?

An hour later I was at the front desk waiting to pay (this time with money, not pain) when the Filipina snapped to and with wide eyes said, “I forgot to do something!”

I had to go back to the chair, where she applied gel to my gums with a long Q-tip.
“This will ease the soreness when the numbness wears off.”
“Gimme two.”
“Don’t brush or floss tonight. Don’t eat anything hot, temperature-wise.”

At the supermark I bought a lottery ticket, shrimp and deviled eggs. It would be awhile till I smiled again, like 2011.

Heart of Dentist Too(th)

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I wake up unhappy, don’t eat and go to the dentist’s office.

Lying in the chair with a fairly attractive Asian probing my
mouth, I think about how I’ve never seen a porno that takes
place in a dentist’s office, probably because no one believes
anything pleasurable happens there.

As the woman works away with hooks and drills I once
again imagine the sewer pipes under the building, draining
the sludge of blood, gum tissue and tooth (fairy) dust to
Hell for sinners to drink.

I get the vibe the pretty Asian might be Interested, but I’m
not. I’m already heartsick and have no idea why it’s
important my teeth be in good order; ideas for suicide don’t
involve anything that leaves ID only by the teeth.

The dentist is a Good Old Florida Cracker. There are fillings
to be done and the syringe has a shiny silver ring for his
thumb. Oh shit.

The needle pierces my gums, pain lighting up the nerves
racing up the length of my jawline. By the 5th time the
needle strikes, I’m used to it, the monstrous pain of the
white hot needle, a cum-squirt of hot Novocain and WHOOF,
the pain vanishes like a match being blown out. The
horrible needle delivers the cure for itself.

As Dr. Cracker finishes with the shots I tell him, “This is why
I could never be a spy.”

Ha ha ha ha.

Fairly Pretty Asian cleans some more. I’m led to another
chair for the fillings.

A White girl, age unknown, wears a cloth mask over her
mouth and a full facial visor over that. Her smock is
brown and neither her tits or ass leap out as extraordinary.
I love her anyway. She sets up the tools of the trade on
the little tray. Hyperactive squirrels outside the window
distract her. Uh oh.

Dr. Cracker joins her when all is ready. Even with the left
half of my face numb, the drill feels like one from a hardware store. My
mind is both keenly focused and racing. I wonder why
there have never been tooth-shaped birthday cakes, why
everything is a disaster to the unhappy mind. A line from
Bukowski: People’s mouths are uglier than their assholes. I
try not to laugh aloud, there are four hands in my mouth
wielding all manner of sharps and I’m drowning in my own
saliva. I wonder if the girl is a dental student. I love her
even though I haven’t seen her face. Is this how poor
Muslim men go through life? Wondering what’s under there?

No wonder they pray to Allah. No, girl, don’t look at the Muslim squirrels holding their nuts, concentrate on this.

She hold a blue light over the filling goo. Beep….beeep.

It is finished.

I sit in the raised chair like the Buddha, the stupid beaded chain with alligator clips holding a blue napkin on my chest. Horrible pain brings a powerful ability to focus. When Dr. Cracker was shooting me with Novocain, I wished he would’ve flipped out and stabbed me in the heart. It would probably be a fine way to die, the heart stopping as if batteries had been removed but instead of cold death, warmth and beautiful numbness.

The bill is $285 for 3 fillings and a partial cleaning. I’m in the wrong line of work and of questionable sanity, as is everyone who visits a dentist of their own free will.