People in my Mouth

On Monday, there were people in my mouth. That is to say, I had a root canal. At times there were, I believe, upwards of eight full-grown adults standing in my mouth. I believe some of them were riding four-wheelers. At least one of them brought a pet with them.

The whole root canal thing was disappointing. I've heard so many horror stories that I expected it to be much more unpleasant than it actually was. Yes, it was disconcerting, but it wasn't the ordeal I had expected. I expected Nazis to occupy my gums and begin doing unspeakable things to my molars--separating them from my bicuspids in a poignant, Sophie's Choice style moment. Such was not the case. There was no final solution. Instead, a dentist and some of his dental hygienist friends and the aforementioned vehicles and animals simply languished within more oral cavity for awhile. This is not a big deal for someone who has touched his own exposed skull, seen his own exposed ribs, reset his own dislocated shoulder, watched three doctors pull in unison to get his forearm out of the "Z" shape it had ended up in after a nasty fall, and narrowly survived a brown recluse spider bite. Root canals are cake.

However, they were listening to a "Lite" Fm station on the radio, and that was frickin' torturous. It was like Creed was burrowing into my skull "with arms wide open" as Barry Manilow cheered them on from the sidelines. Yes--I actually heard Creed and Barry Manilow on the same station as I was getting a root canal. If there is a heaven, I'd better be on the list. I've done my time. In fact, if they're out of space, Gandhi had better give up his seat.

Then, to make matters worse (or better, depending on how you look at thing) one of those "are you terrified of the dentist then come see us because we'll just knock you unconscious while we clean your teeth" commercials came on the radio right in the middle of the procedure. I find it somewhat amazing that a man was scraping the inside of the root of one of my teeth with a jagged, metal file, and my biggest problem was that I was trying not to laugh hysterically. The dentist and hygienist failed to recognize the irony--which means I should probably find a new dentist and hygienist.

They also had one of those posters on the ceiling that's supposed to distract you from the military maneuvers going on in your mouth, but it only reinforces the fact that you're in the dentist's office because that's the only place someone would hang a poster on the ceiling.

Good times.