4.28.05 The Sadist
As per request: Ricky this is for you.
The day dawned with a bit of nervousness, or rather it seemed so to me; as I remember it. I was working for an electronics company called DCI, in Lenexa, Kansas; about two years ago. I hated that job, lasting only about six to seven months there, but it did come with such a thing as dental insurance, which I had been living without for quite some time, as evidenced by the numerous cavities I had acquired in my front teeth near the gum line.
I went to this dentist I had as a kid. I remember going to him as a little tyke with my brother and sister. He gave us stickers, and toothbrushes, never failed to compliment on my pretty hair. The ladies at the front desk used to take pictures of us, all standing there with our teeth freshly cleaned, our new toothbrushes clutched tightly in our little hands, stickers proudly displayed on our t-shirts. I knew him, I trusted him.
I now hate him, and I am particularly glad that the remaining bill was claimable on my recent bankruptcy this previous September. (Mmmm, feel that satisfaction? Palatable. Yeah.) Dr. Burkes. That name shall be forever on my list of people to torture if I ever have the chance; which, incidentally, only consists of one name at the moment. (Want on it? It is cleverly designed to be expandable.) Moving on. . .
After all preliminary examinations, which included, ex-rays and a particularly painful cleaning, fully equipped with a through dental picking in my extremely sensitive cavities, he deemed that I would need several fillings. How incredibly brilliant of him! He showed me the charts of which teeth would need what and then we planned my next appointment. He decided to only do the fillings needed on my two front teeth first, four fillings in all. At this news, I was a bit dismayed. I mean, logical deduction says: I would have to be back for several different appointments to get everything done, as I had several cavities located in the corners of all my front teeth, which of course would cost. Cost more than my insurance would pay. Upon reflection, this did turn out to be a blessing as I was spared from having to deal with his unrelenting stupidity for any duration.
So, as I said earlier, the day dawned with a bit of nervousness, as if it reflected my inner turmoil. I chain smoked non-stop the whole way from work in Lenexa to Ottawa, where his office was located. I was early and so availed myself of his conveniently placed restroom to brush my teeth and otherwise prepare myself for this coming ordeal. I didn't take nearly enough time. I could never have been prepared for that.
Skipping ahead of the waiting room, I was sitting in The Chair, with that silly paper napkin chained about my neck with those stupid little teethy-clips. (AKA, roach clips, but I would not know anything about that. Really.) Once more, he wanted fresh ex-rays, as my cavities had grown in size, or so he said. I agreed. And before we started I decided, in a clever defensive ploy, to opt for the nitrous oxide, which most likely spared me a lot of discomfort, though it did cost me extra. He then numbed me with a bit of topical Novocaine, put those mouth-holder-openers in, then dived in with his big freaking needle.
Commence the torture.
He wielded this needle as if it was his last stand at the Alamo, and I was the enemy. It was every man or woman for him or herself as my hands gripped The Chair so hard I was sure I would break it. He jabbed that needle in my gum so hard my head pushed into the back of The Chair's headrest. I felt it. Not just pressure. No sir. I felt IT. Not just once, but again, and again, until blessedly, the medicine began to work.
I am not ashamed to say; tears leaked out of my eyes. My toes and hands were still tingling from the nitrous, I felt this weird cold settle upon me as he started to fill my cavities. He stopped several times to re-numb the area with his needle. Each time, pressure forced my head into the back of The Chair. When he hit a nerve I seriously thought: Okay, please, just kill me now, Sadist. I cannot describe how much that hurt. More tears leaked out as his accomplice, errrm assistant, handed him tool after torture device while he continued in punishing me for my extremely bad karma.
She noticed my tears. Her eyes widened: Does it hurt? she asked. (Well, derrr, yeah.) She used a tissue to wipe away my tears and informed the doctor of my obvious discomfort. I of course, was mute due to the mouth openers and could not prevent what was to happen.
Yeah, you guessed it.
Here comes the needle. Again.
Suffice to say, I was not in good shape when I left to go to my car. I was worn out, like that old pair of jeans that you've had since the early eighties. Yeah, that was me. On the way home, it's a thirty minute drive from his office to my house, the numbness wore off.
Dear God.
I had no idea two teeth could hurt so much! At first I didn't understand why, but then I pulled over as it was hurting so bad I could not see for the tears obscuring my vision. I controlled myself, then looked in the mirror at my teeth.
Tenderized meat.
That is what my gums looked like. You could see the individual holes where he went at it with the needle. I counted fifteen separate holes on the front surface. It was as if he had a meat tenderizer and was preparing my gums for lunch. They were bleeding. Oh yeah. A lot. Then, I noticed the color. Yellow, not white like the lower part of my teeth, but a dingy, coffee stained yellow. Ugh.
Never again, I told myself. I will never go back to him again. And, know what? I haven't. My gums hurt for weeks after my encounter with the Sadist. Very sensitive. I could only drink luke-warm liquids. My teeth are still sensitive to this day in that area.
So, now you know. The Humane Dentist is a blessing.
Ciao
The day dawned with a bit of nervousness, or rather it seemed so to me; as I remember it. I was working for an electronics company called DCI, in Lenexa, Kansas; about two years ago. I hated that job, lasting only about six to seven months there, but it did come with such a thing as dental insurance, which I had been living without for quite some time, as evidenced by the numerous cavities I had acquired in my front teeth near the gum line.
I went to this dentist I had as a kid. I remember going to him as a little tyke with my brother and sister. He gave us stickers, and toothbrushes, never failed to compliment on my pretty hair. The ladies at the front desk used to take pictures of us, all standing there with our teeth freshly cleaned, our new toothbrushes clutched tightly in our little hands, stickers proudly displayed on our t-shirts. I knew him, I trusted him.
I now hate him, and I am particularly glad that the remaining bill was claimable on my recent bankruptcy this previous September. (Mmmm, feel that satisfaction? Palatable. Yeah.) Dr. Burkes. That name shall be forever on my list of people to torture if I ever have the chance; which, incidentally, only consists of one name at the moment. (Want on it? It is cleverly designed to be expandable.) Moving on. . .
After all preliminary examinations, which included, ex-rays and a particularly painful cleaning, fully equipped with a through dental picking in my extremely sensitive cavities, he deemed that I would need several fillings. How incredibly brilliant of him! He showed me the charts of which teeth would need what and then we planned my next appointment. He decided to only do the fillings needed on my two front teeth first, four fillings in all. At this news, I was a bit dismayed. I mean, logical deduction says: I would have to be back for several different appointments to get everything done, as I had several cavities located in the corners of all my front teeth, which of course would cost. Cost more than my insurance would pay. Upon reflection, this did turn out to be a blessing as I was spared from having to deal with his unrelenting stupidity for any duration.
So, as I said earlier, the day dawned with a bit of nervousness, as if it reflected my inner turmoil. I chain smoked non-stop the whole way from work in Lenexa to Ottawa, where his office was located. I was early and so availed myself of his conveniently placed restroom to brush my teeth and otherwise prepare myself for this coming ordeal. I didn't take nearly enough time. I could never have been prepared for that.
Skipping ahead of the waiting room, I was sitting in The Chair, with that silly paper napkin chained about my neck with those stupid little teethy-clips. (AKA, roach clips, but I would not know anything about that. Really.) Once more, he wanted fresh ex-rays, as my cavities had grown in size, or so he said. I agreed. And before we started I decided, in a clever defensive ploy, to opt for the nitrous oxide, which most likely spared me a lot of discomfort, though it did cost me extra. He then numbed me with a bit of topical Novocaine, put those mouth-holder-openers in, then dived in with his big freaking needle.
Commence the torture.
He wielded this needle as if it was his last stand at the Alamo, and I was the enemy. It was every man or woman for him or herself as my hands gripped The Chair so hard I was sure I would break it. He jabbed that needle in my gum so hard my head pushed into the back of The Chair's headrest. I felt it. Not just pressure. No sir. I felt IT. Not just once, but again, and again, until blessedly, the medicine began to work.
I am not ashamed to say; tears leaked out of my eyes. My toes and hands were still tingling from the nitrous, I felt this weird cold settle upon me as he started to fill my cavities. He stopped several times to re-numb the area with his needle. Each time, pressure forced my head into the back of The Chair. When he hit a nerve I seriously thought: Okay, please, just kill me now, Sadist. I cannot describe how much that hurt. More tears leaked out as his accomplice, errrm assistant, handed him tool after torture device while he continued in punishing me for my extremely bad karma.
She noticed my tears. Her eyes widened: Does it hurt? she asked. (Well, derrr, yeah.) She used a tissue to wipe away my tears and informed the doctor of my obvious discomfort. I of course, was mute due to the mouth openers and could not prevent what was to happen.
Yeah, you guessed it.
Here comes the needle. Again.
Suffice to say, I was not in good shape when I left to go to my car. I was worn out, like that old pair of jeans that you've had since the early eighties. Yeah, that was me. On the way home, it's a thirty minute drive from his office to my house, the numbness wore off.
Dear God.
I had no idea two teeth could hurt so much! At first I didn't understand why, but then I pulled over as it was hurting so bad I could not see for the tears obscuring my vision. I controlled myself, then looked in the mirror at my teeth.
Tenderized meat.
That is what my gums looked like. You could see the individual holes where he went at it with the needle. I counted fifteen separate holes on the front surface. It was as if he had a meat tenderizer and was preparing my gums for lunch. They were bleeding. Oh yeah. A lot. Then, I noticed the color. Yellow, not white like the lower part of my teeth, but a dingy, coffee stained yellow. Ugh.
Never again, I told myself. I will never go back to him again. And, know what? I haven't. My gums hurt for weeks after my encounter with the Sadist. Very sensitive. I could only drink luke-warm liquids. My teeth are still sensitive to this day in that area.
So, now you know. The Humane Dentist is a blessing.
Ciao
posted by Mighty Meagan | 4/28/2005 09:48:00 PM
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3 comments
