I am Raped in the Mouth: A Story of a Delightful Visit to the Dentist

By: Jacob Lewis

I wake up Saturday morning to light streaming in through our living room windows, having passed out downstairs due to my bedroom being overcrowded with various invading children folk. Normally on these mornings I am able to feel a brief moment of contentment, which comes from being greeted by a beautiful new day, before my mind can instinctively suppresses it and remind me I hate both sunlight and going outside. However, today I don’t even get that brief respite, because I remember today is dentist day. Every six months I go to the dentist, and every six months I make an appointment hoping that the world will end before I have to come back. It never does. I blame my wife for this, I don’t know why, but I do. As a side note, She also always makes the appointment for me because in a lot of ways i’m a 12 year old, but in a lot of other ways i’m actually a 4 year old.

I drive to the dentist and arrive immediately before my appointment at 10:00 am. I park insanely far away, but would rather get an easy parking space than worry that this decision will come back to haunt me in the near future. Because, really, why would it?

I enter the building, am greeted by the friendly receptionist and immediately ushered to my dental chair at the back of the office. The dentist explains to me that she is going to do a cleaning and fill a cavity. She sets up what feels like a mini inverse circus tent in my mouth to create a barrier between the tooth she is working on and my tongue. She then numbs me and gives me a pair of noise cancelling headphones. I put on a stand up special (Bill Burr) and relax, as best as I can knowing i’m at a dentist’s office.

The dentist comes back and does the cleaning before beginning the process of drilling into my decaying tooth matter. About 5 minutes in, I begin to notice something peculiar. It feels like someone is cutting into my tooth with a drill. While this is an accurate representation of what is being done to me at this time, it is something I should not be feeling.

“Aye Fhell dith” (translation: I feel this!)

“Really?” says the dentist, “okay”

The dentist continues to drill into my tooth, as if I had merely commented that her dress was pretty today (it was). I think she doesn’t understand the significance of what i’m saying so I repeat,

“Ahm nod nmb aht al, et rhely urts ahlt” (translation: I’m not numb at all, this really hurts a lot!)

The dentist turns to me and says, “It looks like the section we put medicine on isn’t numbing your tooth. It looks like some of your cavity is under your gum line and the gum isn’t numbed”

“Wht” (translation: What?)

I can’t help but notice that the dentist omitted the sentence that should have immediately followed her explanation, which was,

“Im going to go ahead and numb this section again so you don’t feel anything”

Instead, she keeps on drilling and says “its also at a strange location. What we use to numb the area won’t be effective.”

“Wht” (translation: WHAT!)

I sit in my chair and continue to feel the drill burrow into my tooth and gum. I am in a state of shock. Haven’t advancements in modern dental science, at least those in which there are shits given by me, culminated in the ability to numb all portions of the human mouth. What is this magic spot on my gum impervious to modern medicine? Why aren’t we cloning it, patenting it, and then using it to protect our troops overseas. More importantly, what sort of half assed job do dentists do where they think figuring out how to numb 97% of the mouth is good enough.

I sit in my chair and the torture continues,

“ghrmp frt” (Translation: AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK!)

The dentist, sensing that I was feeling a little bit of discomfort due to the sounds I was making, my heavy breathing, watering eyes and every muscle in my body tensing at once every five seconds stops the drilling and says,

“I know this hurts, if you want I can go slowly?”

First off, unlike Saturday morning cartoons, in this situation knowing is exactly half of fuck zero of the battle. Second, GO SLOWLY!!! Are you joking!!! I would have rather she just said, “I know this hurts. I’m going to take this thermos of scalding hot coffee and pour 6 oz on your genitals. I’m going to keep on doing this every 5 minutes until I’m out of coffee or your out of unburned genital region.”

I think through my options, Option 1: Pain, Option 2: Pain, but longer lasting. I mumble,

“nob jhst go” (Translation: Just go)

The Dentist continues to drill into my teeth, ignoring my muffled whines. She stops every few minutes and asks if, “I’m still feeling anything”. I don’t dignify these questions with answers, because I assume she wants one other than “just hatred for you”, but think about responding “no ma’am not a thing, these tears running down my face are just because I thought of that scene in UP where the wife dies and the old man is sad. Gets me every time.”

“hw mfch lnnger?” (translation: How much longer?)

“About ten minutes” she responds.

Good. I think, I can handle this.

[40 minutes later]

The dentist puts the drill down and says with her lying mouth “Okay we’re done, I’m going to let the filling dry for a little bit, there might be a crack in it so **** **** *** ***** ****** ***** ***** all over again. [portion omitted from memory at the time due to severe mental block of unpopular information].

I sit in the chair, with the entire left side of my mouth feeling like i just got drilled in the tooth and gums without painkillers (no metaphor necessary). I am in real pain, but i’m glad its over. I just want to go home.

The dentist comes back and makes me do some bite tests. She has to manually move my jaw because I seem to have lost my ability to do it on my own. She finishes and says, “Jacob, it looks like the filling has a large crack in it. I am going to have to remove the filling and do this again.”

“Hu hu hu hu, yr jking” (translation: HA HA HA HA, You’re joking?)

Her silence in response is all the answer I need.

“hokay, I ndrstand” (Translation: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!)

She senses correctly that I am not amused by this news, and tries to comfort me by saying, “It will be much quicker this time, 20-minutes.”

“hkay” (translation: okay)

[50 Minutes Later]

The dentist puts the drill down and says with her lying, heathen, abomination between her nose and chin “we’re finished.” No acknowledgement of the pretty significant expectations she set up about the length of my second unnecessary oral violation. She does not seem to understand that I am a human being who comprehends the passage of time in a linear fashion. This isn’t Slaughterhouse V. I wasn’t in this chair and suddenly back in elementary school, and then 80 years old in a nursing home, and then enjoying my 14th birthday. I’ve been in this chair, feeling every one of those pain multiplying minutes that she predicted, and then feeling another 30 of them.”

The dentist comes back and gives me a bag of tooth care supplies. I check and notice morphine is not included. I think about grabbing her dental instruments and demanding at drill point a toy from the toy box. I was, after all, a very good boy. I changed my mind, not because I felt I didn’t deserve it (again, a very good boy) but because it was probably all crappy finger puppets and those stupid metal balls game where you have to get all of them to stay in their holes, but they never stay….not ever. It wasn’t going to be like my awesome old children’s dentist in Los Angeles, who sometimes had DC comic books. Also, in addition to comics, she never made me sit through the same cavity filling twice in one sitting without painkillers, so she is up there pretty high in my book.

As I leave, the dentist says, “if you experience sensitivity to cold don’t worry, but if it is prolonged or you feel it for hot too, you need to call me immediately. Also, call if you experience prolonged severe pain.” I have visited this dentists several times and she has done multiple cavity fillings. She has never told me that last part before. She said it all with that cold, yet some how fearful, tone you hear in a horror movie where a character has just been bit by a vampire and told, “you can head on home, but if you start feeling sensitive to sunlight and garlic, and you start feeling a hunger you can’t quench, you might want to take that gun there and stick it in your mouth.”

I take the long long walk back to my car, my face throbbing with every extra step I take. I begin wishing I had parked closer. God damn lazy past Jacob, I hate that guy. I get in, turn it on, start to back up out of my space, stop, think, “nope”, turn off the car, and open the door so I can dry heave over the side. I then take all the Advil in the vicinity of my vehicle.

Thirty minutes later I decide I feel okay enough to drive and head on home. I spend the rest of the weekend either in pain or whining about the experience to those who will listen.

The moral of this story is that dentists are all liars and you should never go to one.

The End

 

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