Account of a Root Canal

In the chair, initialing stacks of forms describing what they might do to me. Meet the doc. He looks pretty young.... But amiable enough. At ease, I am. Explain to him the tolerance I've developed toward novocaine. Doc says, "We'll give you double what you're used to. And would you like some nitrous oxide - to relax?" Hell yes. Inhaler over my nose, and within minutes my feet and legs are prickly. And then numb, as he injects the novocaine. Shortly thereafter, I hear a soft rock drumbeat. Then singing. The voice of Richard Marx? And it seems to be emanating from my nose. Doc and his assistant have left the room. I'll ask them about the soft rock coming from my nose when they get back. On second thought, better keep that to myself. More oxygen and I come to. And then wait.

Long time.

Doc is back to administer more of the nitrous. Pretty soon I understand completely all of Dennis Hopper's actions in Blue Velvet. And the Counting Crows trying to get into my nose.... Or out of it? Feeling blissful, except for the increasing duration (it's now been at least a half hour, probably more; lost all track of time) with which my jaw has been propped open. Like the portrait of the man in Munch's The Scream. And the discomfort makes my background swirl too. At a break, I reach for the block keeping my jaw agape - I just want to relax, and talk. (Jonah has had plenty of time to escape.) "No! Don't take that out." Doc cuts me off the nitrous, probably thinking I've had enough. Probably right.

And hours go by. Various X-rays, various complications, various repetitions of the same various procedures. Travel Channel has gone through two episodes of Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, and on the second Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. And all this time, being subjected to the most heinous sound to anyone who's ever spent any length of time in the dentist's chair - the drill - and I'm feeling fine, because I don't feel shit. It's awesome. I'm used to feeling the drill when I get a filling - a bizarre, deeply sensitizing sensation - but now I know why: not enough novocaine! A revelation. And then finally it's over.

(Figured out the soft rock too: it actually came from the speaker directly above my nose as I faced the ceiling. They almost had me fooled....)

I've always taken good care of my teeth. Floss once a day and brush at least twice. But I have what they call in the industry, "soft teeth." So I may have to get used to the above experience. Fine and good. Just gas me up and make me numb.