“Dentist”
Dec 03, 2019Waiting for the Xanax to kick in. I broke off a small chunk from another pill and swallowed it. A baby was crying and her older sister was crunching on pretzels. A man was talking on his phone, leering at me, not blinking. A woman was yelling at the receptionists that she had been waiting for two hours, noting that it was all black people still waiting with her. Another lady was yelling at the receptionists that her young son was in pain and they weren’t going back to the emergency department because they would just get sent right back here. The cherry on top was when the cheery voice announced over the PA that there was a Code Red on Floor 3, and the fire doors slammed shut, the alarm chirped, and the lights strobed. If I’m going crazy in an epileptic fit surrounded by all this chaos, I at least want the calm embrace of my Xanax. So I bit off another small chunk.
The Xanax had kicked in by the time I was sitting on the saran wrap-lined exam chair an hour later. The halogen lamp above was blinding, but I could still see the glint of light reflect from the needle that was entering my open mouth. Palms sweating, I clenched my pants. There were no armrests to hang on to, so I’d have to support myself through the nightmare. A few quick pinches and the doctor said, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” My mouth was pried open by metal rods and suction devices were hanging from my lips like clothes hangers, so I responded unintelligibly. It didn’t matter because he wasn’t listening anymore. He and the nurse were busy planning their weekends.
I heard the awful sound of the drill nearing my mouth. I grunted and held my hand up. “What does our patient want now?” the doctor asked. My mouth was numb and spit was pooling in the back of my throat, but I was able to get out the words “more” and “novocaine.” So he traded the drill for the needle and more of the yellow liquid was injected into my gums.
Thank the gods for tranquilizers because the next hour would have sent my body into shock without them. The drill carved its way deep into my tooth canals. Various needles and grapples and hooks prodded new caverns. Crevices I didn’t realize existed were explored with lights and pliers and jackhammers. High-pitched squeals, low-pitched rumbles that vibrated my brain inside my skull. I’d be lucky to get out of here with only a mild concussion. I choked on my saliva. I couldn’t breathe. Chunks of calcium and blood splattered from my mouth. I watched the doctor and nurse attack for a few moments, then recede, examing and reexamining their mode of attack. They weren’t going to lose this battle, but my tooth wasn’t going down without a good fight.