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December 18, 2003 Christmas 2003 I'm getting a double root canal for Christmas. It wasn't my first choice. It never even occurred to me to put that on my list. It was foisted on me, because my dentist took an X-ray, and came to the conclusion that tooth number 19 needed to be seen by a specialist. I didn't know that teeth had numbers, but it seemed number 19 was in serious trouble. I never suspected anything was up with poor old 19. The stoic little tooth had never complained, never hurt, never asked for any special consideration. I now realized I had been remiss in my duty to the well being of that molar, and was determined to do right by it. Christmas time is not a really great time to be forking over teeth money, so I called the specialist to ask how much this root canal business was going to cost. After hearing the figure, I had to inform the family that Santa had been hi-jacked by the Tooth Fairy this year. They were predictably saddened by the news. With some trepidation, I went to the appointment on Wednesday. I read and signed the HIPAA form, having no idea what it said. I guess the HIPAAs want to keep root canals under wraps...just between them and me. I think I promised not to breathe a word. A preliminary exam and X-ray were done, then a tube with more suction than my vacuum cleaner was inserted. "There go the tonsils," I thought, a package deal - root canal, and tonsillectomy at no extra charge. Enough hardware to fill a pickup truck was shoved into my mouth. The dentist turned on the TV to distract me. I watched country music videos, but I wasn't distracted. My senses were heightened, and I was totally aware that a train wreck was occurring inside my mouth. I was told that a root canal consists of cleaning out the canals and filling them with fluid. There were two canals in each root. The dentist found and fixed three; canal number four was elusive...probably hiding out in Venice. Another X-ray was taken to locate it. This X-ray was marvelous. It was clear, magnified, and therefore, a detailed picture. My garbled request for an 8X10 glossy was misunderstood, and the assistant changed the channel on the television. Unfortunately, the X-ray showed everything except the missing canal. While the doctor went to check on another patient, a man on the new channel was reciting percentage figures for accidental patient deaths caused by doctor error. I yanked some of the hardware out of my mouth, and asked the assistant to change the channel back to the music. I didn't want to be distracted by patient deaths. Instead, I chose to contemplate the sad saga of the country music gentleman whose love affair had gone wrong. It was decided that blue dye be inserted and the tooth sealed. I would return in two weeks, and hopefully the dye would target the canal. I was given a dose of Ibuprofen, and an instruction sheet. As the Novocaine wore off, the Ibuprofen regimen began. The pain intensified over the next 24 hours, and my face swelled to the point that I resembled Alvin, Simon, and Theodore. Eventually, the jaw looked like I'd gobbled up all three. On Friday morning when the pain reached TI (Totally Intolerable) on the Cookie Pain Endurance Scale, I called the specialist's office and got a prescription for an antibiotic, and another for pain relief. I read the sheets that accompanied the medications. Since I always have an overwhelming desire to operate heavy machinery when I'm in severe pain, it's really good that the sheet advises me not to do this. One prescription said it might cause drowsiness, which it did, and the other said not to lie down for at least 30 minutes after taking it. This was a bit tricky in the middle of the night when I desperately wanted to go back to sleep. The doctor phoned on Sunday to check on my chipmunk status. I was happy to report swelling down, spirits up. In the future when someone says, "I'd rather have a root canal than..." (insert favorite grotesque comparison here), figure the person is either a big bag of wind, or a complete nitwit. Now, it is a week until we unseal Pandora's box and go canal hunting again. I'm hoping for better results this time, but I'm afraid that a root canal may be one of those Christmas gifts that just keeps on giving...pain, swelling, sleep deprivation, dental bills, dental bills, dental bills. 2003 Copyright Humboldt Standard Website Developed and Maintained by Eldon Russell |
