Time for the ol’ semi-annual visit to the Oral Torturer – the dentist. For the first time, ever, my jaw is killing me, the muscles having seized thrice, no doubt brought on by extensive x-rays (which I loathe), a must-be-fresh-out-of-school hygenist (who poked me twice in the lip with the descaler) who was all over the place, and the “only ever two years” testing of my gum depth (which, also, ow).
Oh, and I apparently have another cavity.
My last cavity seems to have been about 20 years ago, though I have some recollection of a successive dentist grinding out the deep chasms of my molars to fill them in an effort to avoid getting any new pits. In any case, it’s been a long time. Those were brought on by terrible habits – a diet of mostly Coca-Cola and nowhere near enough sleep – and was awkward enough.
This one? It’s … unknown how I got this one, actually. I’ve been pretty good with brushing et al, so this is a mystery. It’s location, however, is not. Have I mentioned that I have all my wisdom teeth? That should probably hint at where this one is.
Suffice to say, the dentist looked at it and immediately said:
Nitrous.
She wanted nothing to do with going all the way back in the mouth without me being rendered less likely to gag. I’ve never done nitrous oxide (aka laughing gas) before. Never needed it, to be honest, though I’ve heard sedation dentistry is a lot easier to deal with. (Have I mentioned my gag reflex?) Alex loves it, so this will be another new experience.
Check back on 7 June for another installment…
