Now I Know What a Sex Doll Feels Like

Getting face fucked can’t possibly be more unpleasant than sitting in a dentist’s chair for six hours.

That’s right — six gum gobbing hours.

Yesterday, during an all-day dentist appointment, I had more bodily fluid drooling out of my mouth than a meth whore.  It got so bad that at one point my jaws started to cramp up.

SIX HOURS IN A DENTIST CHAIR.  THE HORROR!

My misery began innocently enough in the morning of what was supposed to be a simple dental cleaning.  An annual check-up was discounted at the too-good-to-resist price of $39.  Rule number one:  Forget the specials listed on flyers stuffed in your mailbox when it comes to selecting a dentist.  Your mouth is not like ordering a pizza and getting two free toppings.

I arrived promptly at 9:30 am, with a coupon in hand.  Two crowns, one cap, a wisdom tooth extraction, laser treatment, and a whopping $2,455 later (thank goodness I’m running good in football betting), the entire bottom of my face felt like a hood ornament involved in a head-on crash.

Yeah, dental coupons are like bait.  A trap.  Once buckled down, no prisoner gets out of the dentist’s chair for a measly thirty-nine bucks.  How often do you hear, “your teeth are all in perfect condition, but let’s do a deep cleaning anyway — that will be $39 thank you very much.”  You’re much more likely to get this line: “Some serious work needs to be done — now, what’s the deductible on your dental insurance?”

I’m not sure which was worse — lying there for six hours or paying the final bill as I stood in the waiting room biting down on a bloody stitch of gauze.  Certainly, the shots were an ominous beginning of what was to come.  Taking half a dozen needles into my upper gums is about as miserable as I’ve ever been, short of once hearing Oliver Tse’s life story.  But the worst thing about the shots was the anesthetic gradually wearing off after about four hours.  By 2 pm — with an impacted wisdom tooth yet to be plucked from my upper jaw — I got ambushed by needles a second time.  By then, my jaws were so numb I couldn’t feel half my face.

I’ll admit, it had been a long while since I’d been to the dentist which all made things much worse and more expensive than I’d anticipated.  It was finally time to break down and go since the plaque was making my teeth feel fuzzy like they were wearing sweaters.  But even the cleaning turned out to be another chapter in the art of the hustle.  My teeth had allegedly gotten so gunky I needed the ultra-deep cleaning and laser treatment.  Cost $295.

I’m not sure where my dental hygienist attended school, but I’d be willing to bet she’d done some tile and grout work at some point in her life.  As for my dentist, who shall remain nameless, he missed his life’s calling.  He would have made one hell of a diamond cutter.  Here, check out this movie clip which pretty much encapsulates our inherent universal fear of that unpleasant place — the dentist’s chair:

I did manage to get my money’s worth.  My visit included a full monty of multiple x-rays, an examination, a “free” consultation (that ended up costing $2,455), popping out three old metal fillings (I insist on keeping the silver, to no avail), capping one tooth, molding creating and installing two crowns, a deep dental cleaning, a laser treatment of the gums for what’s called periodontal disease, and the final joyous moment of all….yanking out one wisdom tooth.

A yes — the wisdom tooth.  Readers who get queasy might want to skip the next few paragraphs.

A wisdom tooth impacted in the upper jaw is especially problematic.  They can be particularly hard to extract.  I honestly didn’t feel a thing, except for the dentist’s fist jammed in my mouth for about four minutes.  But I sure did sense and hear every tear and crack as the dentist sawed his way into the raw bone.  After sedating the area again for the third time, the next thing he did was stick a metal chopstick inside my jaw, insert it between my teeth, and then pop it like a crowbar, separating the tooth in its final frontier from the rest of the molar region.

Next, he clasped the wisdom tooth with another metal device, slowly wiggling at the seams back and forth, as the root tore apart from the gum, instantly causing massive bleeding.  I’ve discovered that blood has an interesting taste.  I think I could seriously get into the vampire thing.  I know.  Kinky.

The one thing you never want to hear when your mouth is filled with metal picks, gauging blood and a clenched fist is your dentist whispering to his assistant that he “hasn’t seen one like this in a long time.”

That can only mean one thing — more pain.

That stubborn wisdom tooth didn’t want to leave his 26 pals.  The tooth that had helped to digest tens of thousands of delicious meals from all over the world and been bathed in just about every intoxicant known to mankind at various points in my life, made a final stand worthy of fighting at the Alamo.  After pulling back and forth, one final yank removed the tooth from the last vestiges of contact with my body — a place it’s been comfortably nestled for half a century — plucked forever to a final lifeless premature destiny that awaits all of our body parts and organs.  I asked to see the tooth after it had been removed.  It was like saying goodbye to an old friend.

Next, I plan to have a medical check-up.  Does anyone want to read about my colonoscopy?

TAG: Nolan Dalla writings