Root Cabal

Oral hygiene is an important part of daily life, or at least that’s what I’m told when the process leads me to not only bleed profusely from my prosfusables but also make noises of pain so high pitched they might even shatter a boyband-fan’s well-hardened eardrums.
Of course because I have hopes for a life where I lose my virginity before my 3 month old niece (oh my brother is not going to like that joke) I choose to face these ordeals head on and avoid the glorious ranks of the gap toothed elite.
As luck would have it though I am blessed with some of the most heinously constructed teeth this side of the cosmos….or at least that’s what I’m told by every single dentist I see as they look about my brittle britches with pity that not even someone who’d still sleep with Britney Spears could muster at this point.
It’s not that they look bad (though my shyness means not many see them at all anyway) but rather (as briefly stated in the last paragraph) their fragility. This fragility over time has meant that my teeth are essentially stacks of fillings fused together by SHEER WILL.
Sheer will doesn’t save sheep from getting slaughtered (let’s play catch the pun!) and during my most recent appointment….looks like it didn’t save me either.
As usual after some slightly awkward greetings with all the assistants (who seem to know horrifyingly large amounts about me while all I know about them is they assist in the oral beating I’m about to receive) I found myself in the chair of legends.
I wasn’t quite so terrified at this point as just a few weeks back I had the initial step of Root Canal (root killing and temp filling) and was promised this follow up wouldn’t hurt a bit.
He was right, it didn’t hurt a bit…….it hurt a hell of a lot.
But then why you ask with utter faked concern upon your brow? Why did it hurt so?!?!
Turns out I have what can only be monikered as THE DEVIL’S TOOTH…..or perhaps that was the impression I got as he started sweating severely, nailing metal spokes down it, counting the injections in the dozens and insisting he should have ignored his parents and become a bus driver like he always wanted.
I might also add that it’s never a good sign when you hear him mumbling “Did it have 4 roots last time? I pretty sure it was three, OH WELL” as he shoves that delightful drill back in its right pain-inducing receptacle.
Then as if by some sort of “wedgie of fate” the end result was him actually giving up. I’ve had plenty of dentists complain about the demonic entities present in my teeth but never before did I have one who essentially had a breakdown because of them and who when I thanked for his efforts in the end looked at me with utter sorrow and said “No…No don’t thank me…..really” and finally proceeded to reach for a draw where I can only presume a suicide enhancing firearm was kept.
So the way things stand for the moment is me having yet another temporary filling while I await his next noble attempt at battling the beasts within……though if last time was any indication I’m not really expecting to leave the dental rooms on 2 feet.



