Dental Drama

I’m no stranger to the dentist. All my life I’ve had strange oral ailments.

In 2^nd grade I was playing a jump rope game at recess with friends. When it was my turn, they wrapped me up in jump ropes and I fell, laughing, to the pavement. My right front top tooth (a permanent tooth, of course) was chipped.
When my mom took me to the dentist to have it fixed she ended up having to take my sister and leave the building – just to walk the sidewalk out front – because my screams were so loud she could no longer wait in the lobby.

The summer between 4^th and 5^th grade (or maybe it was 5^th and 6^th?) a routine dental cleaning found 16 cavities. 16. And I swear – I always brushed my teeth.
There were four in each ‘quadrant’ of my mouth, so the dentist scheduled 4 weekly appointments to fill them. Once a week for a month I was dropped off at the FHP medical complex for a couple of hours of dental torture by one parent, then picked up by the other. I remember I had a walkman to listen to. That helped.

Over the next few years I had several more cavities filled, despite excellent dental hygeine. My mom has always said I take better care of my teeth then either of my siblings, yet I was the only one with these problems. Brushing, flossing, mouthwashing...nothing seemed to make a difference. I never needed braces, so at least there was that.

When I was 18 I moved to Logan to attend Utah State University. I developed a toothache just a few weeks after moving, but ignored it. After all, I was no stranger to mouth pain. I could handle it until a visit home. One afternoon, when it had gotten really bad, I sat on the counter in my bathroom and peeled back my lips to get a look at the throbbing tooth and realized that it had turned black.
One of my roommates, a local girl that I didn’t like much, had a dad who was a dentist. He got me in and gave me my first root canal (and later, a crown.) I remember lying in the back seat of our friend Killian’s car on the way to and from the dentist, moaning in pain every time Kill hit a pothole (or swerved around one!)
The father of the roommate that I didn’t really like, btw? He bad-mouthed all the other dental work in my mouth, told me I should really have him re-do it for me, then changed my parents an arm and a leg for the root canal and crown.

When I was 16 or so a Dentist and his family moved in across the street from my parents. We became friendly with the family right away, but didn’t start using him as our dentist for a couple of years. When we finally did, everyone loved him. It helps to be given special treatment J

Dentist Pete has done LOTS of work on my teeth. He’s the only one I trust within 5 feet of my mouth. I love him. That is NOT to say that he loves me.

I am very difficult to get numb. Strangely so. Some of that might result from my extreme anxiety about the dentist – he once told my sister (in confidence) that every time he turns the drill on I “about come out of the chair” – but it’s definitely not all psychological. He uses about twice the amount of anesthetic on me that he does on anyone else, and I can often still feel it when he gets deep enough. Then he has to go back with yet another shot of Novocain into some crazy nerve in the corner of the jaw that he never has to hit on anyone else. It’s ridiculous.

There’s a theory out there – backed up by more than one study – that red heads need more anesthetic to get numb. Definitely true for me! (Though I'm not sure 20% really explains all those extra shots.)

Anyway – this (short) history of my dental drama was not just for your entertainment, it was a precursor to the real story…my recent near death experience.

Think I’m kidding? Google “tooth abscess" or take a look at a couple of these scary websites that talk about where an abscess can end up.

I'll be back soon with the story and with some super scary pictures of me - seriously - if you come back to see me make sure you have a strong stomach.