Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Yesterday at 4, I had an appointment to have a second cavity filled. I'd had the first one filled earlier this month, both of them identified during my first dental checkup in several years. I'd been regrettably lax and wanted to get back on track.

The dentist's office called me at 3 and asked if I could come in earlier, since they'd had a cancellation. When I arrived, the dental assistant was waiting for me and took me right back.

This time, I had a different dentist than I had before. This was the one who actually owns the practice, a graying man in his 50s. He greeted me with a smile. He was dressed casually, in a gray sweatshirt and jeans. Maybe he came in on his day off or something.

The dentist I'd had a few weeks ago when I got my first filling was a young guy who reminded me a little bit of Rocky Balboa and had about the bedside manner of a boxer. He'd been in something of a bad mood and was openly complaining about other patients and about his boss, who happened to be the dentist I had yesterday.

I got the impression from Rocky's conversation with the dental assistant that he was leaving the practice, and I guess he's since done so. He was also the dentist who had done the exam, so I guess he used to be the afternoon person.

They had different styles, for sure. Yesterday's dentist numbed my gums with a topical anesthetic and then used a needle to inject a much stronger anesthetic. But unlike Rocky, who had left the room while the topical anesthetic took effect, so that it ran down my throat and partially numbed it, the older dentist sat there the entire time.

Rocky had barely talked to me except for a brief conversation about dogs, but yesterday's dentist looked at my X-ray and noted I hadn't had any cavities before. He told me I had good teeth. I asked him to point out the cavity on the X-ray, and he did. It was hard to see unless you knew what you were looking for, but he kindly pointed it out.

I would have been afraid to ask Rocky, because when I'd had my exam and told him that I'd never had a cavity before, he said, in a somewhat accusatory way, "Well, you've got one now!"

Once the numbness had set in, he got to work. It was a similar process to the previous experience, but Rocky hadn't exactly filled me with confidence. For example, while cleaning my teeth with a high-powered water pick, he had me tilted back so far in the chair that the water ran down my throat and made me cough! Then while I was recovering from the coughing fit, he left the room for what seemed like a really long time.

While last time the cavity had been on my upper left molars, this cavity was on the side in the back, between two teeth, so the dentist had to tilt my head over a little bit while he worked. He worked first with the drill, and the now familiar burning smell filled my nostrils.

When he put the sealant on it, he used some sort of a spreader, I guess, to open up a gap in my teeth. Since I was numb, I couldn't really feel anything except for the pressure. The dental assistant used some sort of a heating device to dry the sealant.

The dental assistant, who last time had participated in a gripe session against her boss with the younger dentist, was just as cheerful and nice to her boss as she'd been to the other doctor. I guess she's good at playing along and being nice to everyone.

I noted, again, how competent she was. She knows where everything is kept, which tools are typically used for different things. Much the same way that Rocky had, this dentist seemed to defer to her on occasion. It was an interesting dynamic.

Of course, you can't talk with all this stuff in your mouth. I had the assistant on my left side with a suction tube to remove debris and water from your mouth, holding open my lip with her other finger. On my right side was the dentist, with his mirror in one hand and dental tools in the other.

All I could do was listen to the conversation, which drowned out the sound of the drill. I wonder if that's intentional. I'm not exactly an expert in dental procedures, so I don't know if this is unusual. The only other time I had anything done was when I had my wisdom teeth extracted. Then, I remember the dentist making small talk with the nurse, so I suppose it's common. An effective distraction technique, for sure.

At one point, the dentist was having trouble accessing the area and was pushing down on the side of my face with his palm. I thought that, for all intents and purposes at that moment, I didn't really exist as a conscious being. I was just an object. Not that he was rough or anything; but I was, temporarily, simply a problem that needed to be fixed.

Soon enough, the procedure was over. When they had me rinse, I realized just how numb my left side of my mouth was; much number than for the earlier filling, which hadn't been as deep. The assistant warned me not to bite my tongue or lip while it was numb. Much as I tried not to, I must have gnawed on my tongue a little. Today, it's just a little sore.

That evening, when the numbness wore off, I had a little pain, so I took some acetaminophen, which did the trick. Today, aside from my tingling tongue, I'm feeling pretty good. I took a smaller dose of acetaminophen, which helped with the tongue.

I'm relieved to know I don't have to go back for another six months. And provided I continue to take care of my teeth, with the success rate I've had so far, it might be another 30 some years before I have to worry about another cavity.

Copyright 2006 by Alyce Wilson

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