My Own Root Canal Story

acelightning reminded me of my own root canal, which I immortalized in the annals of alt.tasteless back in 2000... figured y'all would enjoy it, so here 'tis...

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From: Robinson <robf...@bellsouth.net>
Subject: Operation: Root Canal
Date: 2000/02/03
Message-ID: <38995ADD.419F3E18@bellsouth.net>
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless

Those of you who compulsively check date stamps on posts may notice that Yours Truly is posting at the somewhat peculiar hour of 05:35 AM EST. While this is not unusual on Thursdays-Saturdays for me, this morning it is:

I am the Survivor of A Root Canal. And oh my friends and neighbors, is it letting me know about it NOW.

Flashback to Tuesday morning, 9:20 AM. 6 month dental checkup that I had purposely delayed for a year, due to the fact I knew either a RC or an extraction was in my near future. Only reason I went in at this time was
that my last flossing dislodged some chunks of enamel from the culprit tooth, which I decided was Most Likely Not A Good Thing.

Anyway, Dr. Terror comes in after the cleaning, pokes around, goes "Mmm-hmmm. Mmmm-hmmm....mmm-HMMMM" like fucking Wilson on Home Improvement, and says "Root canal!" in a boyishly cheerful manner. Knowing I had no bargaining power at all, I timidly inquired about the possibility of a simple extraction.

"Well, if you want to look like a Waffle House waitress....it's the tooth directly behind your eyetooth."

Oh. Okay. Root Canal it is. Paid my bill, came home, immediately started looking up root canals on the 'net. Note that I did NOT request input re: experiences from this lofty forum--I ain't stupid. Most sites reported little or no discomfort, and all stressed PROFOUND numbing of the tooth. Okay. That's acceptable, since my Dental Professional declines to offer nitrous.

February 2, 1400 hours. It Is Time. I recline in the chair, get covered with plastic and the little paper bib, and Doc proceeds to profoundly numb my tooth. I am numb from lower left eyelid to lower left lip. My left nostril is numb. My left ear is numb. He could have shot off an M-80 in my mouth and I wouldn't have known.

And we begin. I don't know if anyone else here has had a root canal, but basically what happens is the tooth is opened up, and the dentist proceeds to drill, scrape, file, shred, and otherwise remove all the pulp and nerve from the tooth--that would be the LIVE part of your tooth. The sounds in your head are phenomenal. If your doc is good, you shouldn't feel anything. If he isn't, you will be writhing in pain.

Luckily my doc is good. Perhaps my statement that we would start by my taking a handful of tender bits, and that every time he hurt me, I'd hurt him made him extremely conscientious regarding adequate anesthetic. At any rate, there was no pain or discomfort at all. I was even humming "City of New Orleans".

Until The Probe.

What is The Probe? This is a wicked sharp THING that is slid down a freshly drilled out canal to see if they've bottomed out. How do they tell? The patient may "react". Yeah. He slid that damn thing in and I about flew out of that chair with a "ggnnnNANANAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHhhhhh!" He jumped, the nurse jumped, I glared at him. Felt like he'd rammed a hot wire into my jaw and out my sinus.

"Oh, you must have felt that. Sorry!" he chirped. "Gnnuuuu GGNNEHH gnaa gnnehhkk gnaaahhh!" I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Huh?" he asked, looking to the nurse for translation. "You BET I felt that!"
she supplied. I growled in my throat at him. He looked shocked and asked if I was growling at him. The nurse said "Yes, I think she is." And snickered.

He removed the probe and introduced the hypo with the anesthetic again. Ahhhhh blissful numbitude. I relaxed, the nurse relaxed, doc relaxed (was he worried about his balls? Hope so), and we continued. Finally the rough drilling of the canals was complete, and removal of the pulp by files began.

Cute little things, these files, look like transistors and capacitors waiting to be soldered onto a board. They're even more cute when they rasp against tender bits of pulp that haven't died and decayed in your head yet. This entire period was punctuated with small "nnnnn", "gnaaa!" and "ngt!" sounds from The Patient, and "Sorry" responses from Doc. Periodically the canals are rinsed with a hypo filled with an antibacterial cleansing solution--Clorox!! You haven't lived until you smell household bleach in your mouth. (NB: they put a huge latex dental dam around the affected tooth so they don't poison you with the bleach.
Mine was neon green. No, I didn't get to take it home.)

An hour of scrape, scrape, zzzzzzz, chip, chip, squirt, zzzzzzzz, scrape, "gnaaaa!", scrape. Finally it's time to Measure The Canals. Files are inserted into the canals, and you have X-Ray's taken to see if he's hit bottom yet. Why he hit bottom with the fucking probe but hasn't with the files is beyond me.

Whilst preparing for the first set of X-Ray's I comment "gnii'ghh gna gnihhhiihh gnaayyghy". Pardon? Nurse interjects, "I think it's getting a little achey." I look at her with pure dumb gratitude. "No problem! We'll fix that right up!" and in swoops the anesthetic. AAaaaahhhhh.....

At last the canals are deemed Complete, and filling of the canals in the now hollowed out tooth shell commences. But first, having somehow devined I am a tasteless individual, Doc inquires if I would like to see
my canals. "Gnnuuu gneh!" I reply. So he hands me a mirror, and holds his little dental mirror just right so I can observe the horror he has wreaked upon me.

The entire top and tongue side of my tooth is gone. The interior has been drilled down *below* the gumline, and is a peculiar shade of brown. And in that brown field are two tiny black pinpoints--my root canals. He's pointing at them with one of those sharp probes, and I am utterly fascinated. "Ghhoooooolll!" I burble, and we return to the Filling Of The Canals.

Gutta-percha, a product of tropical tree sap, is inserted into the canals, and more tiny bits of same are stuffed in around the g-p sticks. This was covered on the websites. What was NOT covered was the fact that, after the g-p is gooshed in there, a sealant is applied and then Dr. Terror heats up a probe over a butane flame and MELTS this shit into your tooth. Smoke and the smell of burnt rubber seep from my mouth--a novel sight and sense. No pain, we are still "profoundly numb".

Then a temporary filling containing enough gold to make it a nauseous yellow is squerked around in there, I pay my bill, receive a scrip for hydrocodone (8 tablets, the cheapskate) and sent on my merry way, to return one week hence for creation of a crown. "Pound the ibuprofen!" he yelps cheerily, then turns to his next victim.

Felt pretty good until the anesthetic wore off, and my mouth started inquiring exactly WHAT I had done to it. Pounded down 800 mg ibuprofen, ate supper (Jambalaya), and went to bed. Woke up at 11 pm, tooth singing the blues, pounded 800 mg again. Sat up for a few hours, took another 200 mg and a hydrocodone. Went to bed at 2 am.

Woke up at 4:45 am, tooth is once again doing it's impression of The Marathon Man, and it's too damn early to take anything. So I'm sharing this with you and waiting for 6 am. Maybe not particularly tasteless in and of itself, but I'm hoping there are sufficient dental phobics out there that I've made some stomachs turn and balls disappear into abdomens just from the sheer thought of a root canal.

At any rate, I've tried.

Lorri
The Tooth, The Whole Tooth, and Nothing But The Tooth