Let me just say that if I could have a root canal every single day of the year?
I probably wouldn't.
But this was BY FAR the best experience I've ever had at the dentist, bar none.
This dentist was just a chicklet, just a child. But he knew what he was doing, he did. And he kept me completely out of pain the entire time I was there. If ever I had the smallest twinge, all I had to do was lift a finger and he was at the ready with the Novocaine. And he used enough gas so that I was on Cloud 9 most of the two hours I was there.
I began with a disclaimer, letting them know from the beginning I was not responsible for anything that came out of my mouth speech-wise during our little session. Then on went the mask, which smelled amazingly like incense, which reminded me of the 70's, which reminded THEM of things OTHER people did in the 70's, and it went downhill from there.
I remember at some point the three of us were kind of chair dancing to some song during one of the let's-check-and-see-how-much-deeper-we-need-to-drill parts. And I remember it because that was one of the points where the gas was turned way down...it wasn't on high ALL of the time.
After about an hour and a half they had to remove the mask to take some x-rays, and both of them started laughing. Apparently the mask gave me sleep marks and I looked quite lovely. Dr. Chicklet was quick to tell me they weren't laughing AT me, they were laughing WITH me...then he put the mask back on and turned the gas on high.
And I laughed, too.
I remember him saying the drilling was all done. Then he was drilling again. It was the curse of the funky roots, come to haunt me again. Even though I'd warned him, he didn't believe me. He didn't find the last one that wasn't supposed to be there until he started filling the tooth.
So I laughed some more. Not AT him, but WITH him.
All told it took him about 45 more minutes than he had planned. I was perfectly happy to have it take a couple of hours more, but he had another patient waiting.
He told me it had been a blast and to come back and party any time.
Which makes me wonder what else I did besides snap my fingers to the music, hum, and chair dance.
I do remember staggering out of the office and weaving my way to the car. I don't think I could've passed a sobriety test at that point. Luckily, the effects wore off quickly.
I'm thinking I may have a few less brain cells than I did 24 hours ago.
But oh. It was SO worth it.
Because the tooth doesn't hurt anymore. And if I had to suffer through all that just to get my tooth to quit hurting, I'd gladly do it again.
Anyone know where I can score some nitrous?