Lenawee Smiles: Anything but comfortably numb during dental visit

His is a benign personality, and those around him exude good cheer. They welcome you into their midst with glad tidings.

You are invited into a comfortable chair, but tension causes every muscle in your body to start to clench.

You are in your dentist’s office.

Are you there for lunch? No. A little chat about world affairs? No. To swap stories about your grandchildren? No, to any pleasant social intercourse.

“Let’s just numb you up a bit, OK?”

Yes, I mentally scream. This is far preferable to a jug of rotgut and being tied down with a dirty rope while someone puts your head in a vise.

I always try to close my eyes so I don’t have to see the needle coming at me but the other day I was not fast enough. What I saw heading toward my gaping mouth was a railroad spike attached to a garden hose.

This I did not need to see.

“Mmmm … do you think you could open your mouth?”

I decided my life might be ending so what the heck, and I unhinged my jaw so this kindly ogre could ram that spike into the roof of my mouth and then outside of my upper gum. Some foul tasting liquid began running down my throat. Tears were cascading down my cheeks from the intense odor of whatever that was. It seemed the injections went on for hours.

Finally, the spike was removed, I was given some water to rinse out my mouth and tissues to blot my face. Dr. Painless left the room, promising to return.

“Must you?” He laughed, thinking I was joking.

I looked at the windows pretty carefully. I knew the one directly in front me was about six feet from my car. If I could break it open, that would mean freedom.

However, I didn’t realize the dental assistant was sitting on her professional perch behind me.

“Was there something you wanted?” she asked, as I started to swing my purse at the window.

“No,” I am just doing some exercises….

“Right,” she said with a sneer in her voice.

Dr. Painless then returned, and I had to put my purse down, sit down and once more open my mouth.

The spike was replaced with a drill and a pretty large drill bit: ZZZZZZZZZZ. “Suction.” sang out the good Dr. P. I felt the floor of my mouth heading toward the city sewer for a few moments then the drill commenced its work.

I opened one eye and saw a large chisel heading my way.

“You’ll feel some pressure now.”

Oh, what a student of understatement this fellow is. I wanted to hold my face in place because I was pretty sure my upper jaw might well be trying to dislocate itself. Then to a South American rhythm, there was an alternate drill-chisel routine that went on for about 23 minutes in some mad dance competition.

Now I am beginning to wonder if what I came for would actually happen. I was there to have a troublesome molar extracted. So far, I had not sensed any pulling sensation. What if the chisel slipped and broke off too much of the tooth so that the Ace Hardware giant pliers could not grasp it to pull it out?

Then what? My life’s savings would be funneled into a bank account in the Cayman Islands for an oral surgeon to take over? My mind was a rat in a maze, fretting over the possibilities.

But then, I heard another metallic clicking and felt the clamping of a fierce tool on that tooth.

This tooth then indulged in mortal combat with poor Dr. Painless. He would gain a scant millimeter, and the tooth would retreat into my gum. More chisel and drill work. Then the clamping, shifting and pulling would commence.

Over and over, Dr. Painless attacked that tooth with renewed fervor and determination. I could almost hear him thinking, “You WILL come out of there because I am ready for lunch”

I swear I could hear that tooth replying, “Stuff it.”

The battle continued.

Now, my mouth had been a Grand Canyon for close to an hour, what with the numbing, waiting for it to take effect, the rumba, tango, salsa, drill, chisel, pliers, wrenches and so on.

I was getting tired, thirsty and ready to go home.

Then part of the tooth gave up.

More thumping about, and at last the roots decided to join the rest of the tooth.

“It’s out!” chirped Dr. Painless. I opened my eyes to see him bathed in the afterglow of success and perspiration. He had worked hard.

But the tooth won. A small piece of it stayed behind, and I had to go back to have it removed.

Visiting a dental office is like being handed a piece of chocolate, biting into it and finding it is filled with sand.

— Susan Keezer lives in Adrian. Send your good news to her at lenaweesmiles@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Susan Keezer: Anything but comfortably numb during dental visit