Grandma, Pirates, and Me

Years ago, my dad told me a story of my grandma visiting the doctor.  Here's what I remember:

Grandma was workings as a stenographer, or maybe a typist, when she began having severe shoulder pain.  According to what I remember from Dad's story, the sack of fluid that lubricates the shoulder joint had somehow punctured and leaked all the fluid out, leaving the joint grinding with terrible friction.  After putting up with it for a long time, Grandma finally walked all the way to the doctor's.  There, in a fine example of early 20th century medicine, the doctor gives her a shot straight into the shoulder joint and proceeded to wrench her arm around in a circle, which must have hurt like the devil, and then sent her on her way.

As you can imagine, Grandma was not pleased.  Here she had walked all the way to the doctor, paid money she could not afford, only to be manhandled and put in worse pain.  All the way home she was fuming and chewing the doctor out as she walked.  When she got home, she suddenly realized that the pain in her shoulder was gone.  As she worked her shoulder in surprise, she exclaimed, "Oh!  What a good doctor!"

I tell this story, because it was a lot like my experience yesterday with my dentist.  I went in because I'd had a filling fall out back in December and I couldn't stand the pain anymore.  Whole seeds would get caught in the hole and jammed into it, it was pressure and temperature sensitive, and, to make matters worse, it was one of my precious baby teeth.  I finally had an appointment to get the filling replaced yesterday.  It turns out that the filling that had fallen out had wedged itself in between my teeth and was helping to cause more damage.  After being numbed by the hygienist (She numbed me early because I couldn't stand the pain of the cleaning around that tooth.), and waiting for the dentist for half an hour, he took a quick look at the x-ray, pursed his lips, and turned to the hygienist.  He quietly told her that I'd need a "pulpotomy" and a crown.  They debated for a while about whether I'd want a ceramic or a metal crown, and then left the room.  I was in for a root canal and a crown just like that.  

I left that night after two and a half hours at the dentist's, at least three shots of numbing, lots of bleeding gums, $500 or so, happy gas, and slowly drowning in a mixture of spit, blood, Novocaine, and latex gloves, I walked out of there with a pirate sneer from the numbing and a metal tooth to match (temporary until I get the ceramic crown in a few weeks).  I was exhausted, in pain, my head ached, and I was doggedly reminding myself that I was grateful for modern dentistry, because it could have been a lot worse.

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I was hungry, but putting anything in my mouth sounded like advanced torture.  Di recommended mac and cheese, which I hadn't eaten in years, and I threw in some green beans and ice cream as well.  When I got home I swallowed some ibuprofen and heated up the mac and cheese.  I was hesitant to put anything either hot or cold in my mouth, since I now had a metal casing around the most sensitive tooth I'd ever had, and I didn't want it expanding or contracting or even twitching.  I called Mom and complained, I called Di and complained, and I felt very, very sorry for myself.

Until I took the first bite.  I could chew! For the first time in months, I ate without pain.  It turns out that a root canal and crown and Novocaine and gums bruised blue are less painful than a bum tooth.  

What a good dentist.

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