Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Why I loathe going to the dentist

First of all, can I just point out my maturity in no longer saying "I loathe dentists." I try to be very careful and specify that I actually loathe "going" to the dentist.

It all began at the lovely age of 6 or 7. Baby teeth are supposed to be those nice, soft, pliable things that fall out in order to make room for the hard, sturdy adult teeth to last you (most of) the rest of your life. I think my mouth got the order mixed up because some of my baby teeth refused to fall out. And thus it was that six of my front teeth had to be pulled. Many tears were spilled, though oddly enough, I remember the six stickers I got - one for each tooth pulled.
Current total of teeth pulled by the dentist: 6


Somewhere in the next year or two following, all four of my corner teeth (not sure what they're called in English) had to be pulled to make room the new ones that were already growing in and were, so said the dentist, going to be crooked and warped if we didn't immediately extract the ones in there. Whatever.
New total: 10 teeth pulled

Very shortly after this, I had another dread-filled appointment, and the dentist peered into my mouth aghast. The wrong teeth were growing into those holes. The side teeth were coming in, so four more teeth fell prey to the pliers.
Total of teeth lost to the man in the white coat: 14

Apparently, my mouth is very small because at the very next visit, he shook his head profusely and declared that now the teeth from the other side were growing in. Or perhaps two teeth were growing into the same hole at the same time. I don't remember exactly. All I know is that three more had to go.
Gasp: 17 teeth!

Surely, I thought, I can finally keep the few I have left. And yet, at age 20, yet another well-studied man in the lab coat pronounced my mouth too small. A couple of months and one surgery later, I'd lost my wisdom teeth and spent over a week recovering, nearly two of those full days with blood-soaked gauze in my mouth and barely keeping enough Vicodin in my body to stave off the pain.
Final grand total: 21 teeth pulled!!!

I say: rip 'em all out now and give me dentures.

5 comments:

Rachel said...

I'm confused... you're supposed to have 32 teeth, so does this mean you only have 11? Or did they replace the pulled ones with false ones? Also, I think by "corner teeth" you might mean molars?

ks said...

Wow. That is nightmarish. I've only had my wisdom teeth pulled and it went smoothly. No wonder you hate going!

Allison said...

Oh my goodness! That's terrible!

Kari said...

Wow. I think your loathing is justified. :) Are corner teeth the pointy ones? Do we call them incisors in English? Or are incisors something else? Somehow, I'm one of those people who didn't mind going to the dentist for the first 20 or so years of my life. Even after I had my "palate-stretched," due to having a small mouth, along with a bunch of other orthodontic work. But having my wisdom teeth out put oral surgeons on my "bad list."

Dougg said...

What kind of parents would let a child endure such hideous abuse?