I Hate Going to the Dentist

…and it’s not just because they get entirely too close to my face. Did I invite you to my barbecue? (no) Then why are you all up in my grill?

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I’ve been having temperature sensitivity pain with one of my teeth and my go-to strategy of hoping it would go away wasn’t working. So, I made the executive decision to make an appointment with a random dentist I found online. Also, chewing on the left side of your mouth makes eating so much less enjoyable. (On the bright side, I totally lost a pound). My first mistake was not checking this man’s yelp review:

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If you got a one star review from doing YOUR JOB, that’s probably a bad sign.

I arrived five minutes early for my appointment and immediately felt uncomfortable because the office appeared to be someone’s home from the outside. I walked in apprehensively and presented myself to the receptionist. She handed me some papers to fill out while I waited. I sat down and noticed a few magazines and toys for children. I promptly filled out the paperwork and handed them to the receptionist. She was older and married; and was probably oblivious to the yelp review I just found.

Whatever

A small man with gray hair and creepy eyes walked out to greet me and asked me to follow him into a room. He was nothing short of  an oompa-loompa minus the green hair. I wish he had had green hair; it would have been a more enjoyable visit. I greeted his dental assistant and sat down in an ugly green dental chair. The equipment seemed old and outdated. I peered around the room and couldn’t help but notice the uncanny resemblance to a serial killer’s torture basement. While I waited for Patrick Bateman to pop out with an ax or chain saw, the dentist (let’s call him Eugene) made small talk with me. I told Eugene that I major in Journalism and that I currently have an internship working for a small tech-start up in NYC. I briefly explained that I was the Content and Marketing intern for the founder of an iPhone app.

Everyone’s trying to make the next app…or whatever.”

Eugene was clearly jealous that my job is more fun than his, so I ignored his condescending tone and generally arrogant demeanor.

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So anyway, I got a cavity filled like three weeks ago and ever since then, my tooth has been really sensitive to cold and hot food and drinks.”

…I said, changing the subject back to why I was there in the first place. He poked around in my mouth and would continue to do this several times during the 25 minutes I was there. He asked me a few more general questions before deciding to take an x-ray. He came back while we waited for the x-ray and I asked him what he thought could be the problem.

Well worst case scenario, you’ll need a root canal.”

I nearly shit my pants. Who says ‘root canal’ that casually?

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He came back with the x-ray and spent 5 minutes looking at it before I asked if he saw anything odd. He didn’t see anything and came back to stick sharp objects in my mouth and tap the problem tooth. Eugene explained that I MIGHT need a root canal. Since he came to that conclusion so quickly, I asked why he thought this and if it could be something else. In so many words, he essentially said:

I don’t know, but you might need one.”

I felt like I knew less than I did before making this mistake of an appointment. He asked me if I wanted to see what the process of a root canal looked like with his superior-I’m-smarter-than-you-because-I-supposedly-have-a-dental-degree tone. He pulled out a picture book and explained the procedure to me, but I was too busy trying not to vomit and planning my escape.

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It could be from the filling that was put in to your tooth. So we can take that filling out, then put a different one in and see what happens. There’s no guarantee it’ll work though.”

I did not trust Eugene with a drill this early in our relationship that was quickly going downhill in my mind.

I don’t understand why the tooth in front of the one that got the filling hurts if the filling is the issue. Can you explain that to me?”

Eugene seemed puzzled when I threw this curve ball at him. I assumed he could tell the tooth that had the filling was different than the one I had pointed to. He poked around in my mouth some more and I finally decided he didn’t have a real D.D.S. Perhaps his career as a ventriloquist did not work out and he was left with dentistry. Either way, I needed to get out of this horrible office. I implied that I wanted a second opinion and got out of the chair quickly and narrowly avoiding ramming the top of my head into the light that was positioned above my face. Farewell, Eugene and may the Yelp reviews be ever in your favor (NOT).

Actual photo of me running away from Eugene.

Actual photo of me running away from Eugene.

 

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10 thoughts on “I Hate Going to the Dentist

  1. I’m not a big fan of visiting the dentist either—out of fear. But it’s hard for me to avoid him because he lives in my neighbourhood, and he often jogs on the same path where I ride my bike. Thankfully, he’s reasonably nice and does a decent job.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I would just have let him pull the tooth out. I mean he’d have a one in 32 chance of getting the problem one, wouldn’t he? That’s better than your chances in any lottery.

    I’ll now show this 😀 just to prove I still have all my teeth so am an expert in dental matters.

    Liked by 1 person

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