The straw that broke the camel's back... errr tooth.

If you didn’t already know this about me, I abhor the dentist. I have dedicated a number of blog entries  (“D is for Disappointment and Dentist” “D is for Dentist and Damage to My Favorite Shirt” “Tomorrow Will Be a No Good Very Bad Day”) to this well-known fact, and I don’t think my feelings will change any time soon…  ESPECIALLY after this morning.

A few months ago, I received a letter from the Dentist kindly reminding me that they are patiently waiting for my return to further torture me. I ignored this letter because I will not be coming in every 4 months or for a half year appointment. I will ONLY subject myself to that cruelty one a year. I would also like to point out that I don’t even dread my annual visit to my lady doctor as much as I despise the dentist.

Last month I got an email informing me that my dentist office had a Facebook page. After processing this news, I immediately opened my facebook site and checked my privacy settings. Brushing the sweat off of my brow, I felt a little better that the office wouldn’t be able to access my page unless I befriended them. I am not sure why my dentist is on Facebook, but I would not be one of “those” people befriending healthcare providers that already know too much about them in the first place. That is why HIPAA was created in the first place. I can remain private and I don’t have to worry about them sharing anything about me either. I chuckled to myself that out of the hundreds of clients they see annually, I was being silly to think that they would seek me out to “be friend” me, and perhaps it was just a kind, informational email that if I was extremely desperate for friends or had lost my mind and decided to be okay with the dentist, then I could befriend them.

Fast forward to this morning…

I am sitting in the vet’s office for my furbabies annual appointment. (They hate the vet as much as I hate the dentist.) Whilst day dreaming, my phone brings me back to reality with a soft melody signifying that I had just received an email from cyberspace. Bored, and nervous – waiting for the pup's lab results to come back – I open the note. It was from Twitter, letting me know I have a new follower. 

MY DENTIST IS FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!

Current mindset… “How did they find me? I hate the dentist. Why do the need to be following me? I hate the dentist. Why can’t they leave me alone? I hate the dentist. Are they looking at my tweets? I hate the dentist. I bet they are going to follow me on blogger. I hate the dentist. I hope they see this entry. I hate the dentist.”

In all seriousness, I am actually quite angry about this. I do not believe that doctors or dentist should seek out to follow their patients on social sites (unless the patient initiates this first), because ultimately this is a breech in patient confidentiality. People do not need to know where I go for medical issues or dental issues unless I want them to know about it. Ultimately I can block them from following me, but I am interested to discover why they felt the need to be a "follower" in the first place. Even if they weren't intending to look at my tweets, I do not appreciate serving as an advertisement without making that decision on my own.

Perhaps this stems from my initial hatred with the dentist, but I can promise you I will not be going back to this business. After I post this, I am going to update myself on what is a HIPAA Violation and how to take action… 

Grumble… I hate the dentist.

D is for Denist.... and Damage to My Favorite Shirt

So I wasn’t wrong about not looking forward to the dentist. (Currently trying to not drool on my laptop.)

Lesson learned today: Never wear a favorite shirt when going to get your teeth cleaned.



I was not looking forward to today. I knew that at 1:40 p.m., the following hour would be filled with needles and shots, ultrasonic cleaner thingy, fluoride, and antibiotics. Yet, somehow, my body still drove me to the dentist. Stupid body.

I walked into the office and King Kong was playing on the television. Oh the foreboding. If the Care Bears or even the “Blind Side” was on, I would have felt a tad better. But no, the movie in which a giant primate takes an innocent woman against her own will, and causes emotional and physical damage seemed appropriate for all the patients waiting to meet their own dental fate. Yippee.

As I waited and waited in the empty front room (I was early mind you), an elderly woman wanders in. “I am early, I hope that is all right.” The group of four medical receptionists smile at her and the office manager pipes up, “Well you are in luck, we are running early today!”

I look at my phone. I had arrived at 1:25p and it was now 1:55p, if this was “early” – I’d hate to see what “late” was. And to my dismay, she gets led in before I do. “Prolonging the torture,” I thought, “nice.”

Cue scary music.

Finally I get led to my “chair o’ torture.” The dental hygienist, that I will call “Annie” sticks two pink swabs in my mouth and orders me to “close.” She shuffles away and it dawns on me that she was already pre-numbing my mouth. And I had questions!

Annie walks back into the room with the dentist and pulls up the picture of my teeth on the big tv in front of us. The dentist reaches in and grabs my numbing swabs and asks, “Any questions before I numb you up?”

Well according to my tongue, I was already partially numb. I manage to droll out “What is scaling?” “Why do I have to be numb now for cleaning when I have never had to be before?” “Will my tongue be numb?” “Will I be able to eat?” and finally – “Will I have to have this done every time I come in?” (The last question was helping me decide if I ever want my teeth cleaned there again.)

The dentist was very friendly, as she held the needle with the hard core numbing agent in her hand. It was all an act. I could see it in her eyes that she was truly ready to give me the shots.

With all the questions having been asked, it was time for me to “open up.” Gripping the chair will all my might, tears welling in my eyes, the dentist proceeds to tell me that I will feel her hand shaking and then a little pressure. Hand shaking? Should her hand be shaking as she delicately places the needle to numb my teeth and attempting to avoid the very important nerve that one should never hit? Great. After she is finished, she tells me I have done a great job and instructs Annie to get her if I need another shot. Oh, no more shots for me. I will brave through any other pain just so I don’t have to deal with the “numb” feeling.

Annie waves the dentist adieu and turns back to me. She grabs the rinser and fills my mouth with water. “I am going to need you to swish.” Swish?? I currently have a numb mouth and she wants me to swish?? The newly instilled water immediately pours back out of my mouth and the measly bib that has been secured to me no longer serves a purpose.

“Oops, guess you are already numb.”

You have got to be kidding me. As she tries to rescue me from drowning in the portion that remained in my mouth, I begin shaking.

“Are you nervous?”
I nod.
“I didn’t even pick up on that before.”

It takes almost every inch of my being to not roll my eyes. If my initial walking in here with a deer in the headlights look didn’t tip her off, I am surprised that the multitude of questions didn’t clue her in. I am pretty sure I had a shaky voice. Oh wait, I was already partially numb at that time, she probably didn’t notice. However, me leaving distinct fingerprints in the armrests should have made an impression on her. Good grief.

Well I would have cried after that very delayed realization if I hadn’t been completely grossed out by the water slowly dripping down the side of my neck, joining a pool of spit/water/God only knows what else that had already made home there. I would have told her but she told me not to move as the ultra-sonic thingy was going to be currently used below my gum line.

As the procedure was coming to a close, Annie began to apply an antibiotic powder that according to her “turns into a paste when it meets the water below the gum line.” Water below the gum line? Never heard of that one before. Does she mean blood or the spit that I’ve got back there? “Does the antibiotic end up systemic?” I attempt to ask. “No, it doesn’t taste good,” she responds. I give up. She won’t understand me anyway.

She makes it to the other side of my mouth and stops. “You look like you have impacted wisdom teeth.” “I did,” I try to say. “Well that’s why your gums look like that then! Definitely shouldn’t be putting antibiotics down there. You need to have them taken out, that’s for sure.” She must have thought I said, “I do.” I shake my head. Hadn’t she looked at my x-rays! No wisdom teeth. I point to the screen with all my x-rays. I can clearly tell I have no impacted wisdom teeth.

I think back to the movie I had watched before I sat in this seat. Maybe King Kong had just been an oversized, misunderstood monkey. He didn’t look like he really wanted to hurt that blond haired lady. Contemplating how King Kong would have tried to successfully communicate with someone, I begin again. “No …. Wisdom… teeth” as I shake my head and point at the screen. The light bulb goes on. “Oh! Have you had them removed?” I nod. She looks to the x-rays. “I see it now. We are good to go.”



Well ultimately I survived.

Every time she told me to close my mouth around the suction, however, I would again become covered with everything that had been previously in my mouth. I am pretty sure I looked like I had taken a bath in the chair.

Upon conclusion, Annie told me that ideally I needed to have a checkup every 3 months. Oh this lady is a real jokester. I told them I would call them to make another appointment. I will be coming at least every six months, and that is if they are lucky. She then apologized for the blood on my shirt. Sure enough, there was a quarter sized blood stain on my right shoulder. So much for going grocery shopping after this.

I did, however, successfully manage to give a creepy smile to everyone sitting at the front desk as my ENTIRE lower jaw ended up numb.

(This is Sheldon from “The Big Bang Theory. My smile looked very similar to this.)



Yay for going to the dentist.

Tomorrow will be a no good, very bad day.

Why?

You know that one post a long, long time ago when I said I was going back to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned? Yeah well that appointment was moved to - TOMORROW.

Think about me as you go about your daily routine.


I have been brushing, I promise!!

D is for Disappointment... and Dentist

I felt the need to disappoint someone today. So I went to the dentist.

It is my fail safe method. If I haven’t disappointed a person in a while, I know I can rely on my dentist. Sometimes if I am super lucky, I can manage to have both the dentist and dental hygienist shake their head at me… then I get double the points!



It’s not any particular dentist, mind you. It’s all of them. I have never known what it was like to have perfect teeth – maybe they go easier on those people. No matter how much I brush, no matter how much I floss (I start flossing two weeks before my appointment so my gums don’t bleed – a sign of weakness) these people would not be happy. Take it easy on the poor girl, I am pretty sure plaque can be hereditary.


I had a dentist for several years that would spend hours on my teeth and he was never completely satisfied. He was nice enough, but those few years that I went to him scarred me for life. Okay, coming from a patient who chipped her front tooth slipping on a rock, getting hit in the face with a Frisbee …. and softball, I was probably seen as more of a challenge for him. But the months of having shots to numb the roots of my poor gimp tooth as he attempted to match one porcelain veneer to the rest of my teeth was pure torture. Serves me right for messing up my teeth.


So maybe I was setting myself up when I made my appointment for today. The dental hygienist walked me back and sat me down. She sits down next to me with my chart.


“When was the last time you had your teeth cleaned?” She asked me, pen in hand.

“Five years ago.”

She began writing and then stopped.

“What did you say? Five years? You sure?”

Here we go. What did she want me to say. “No, I am joking.” Now, that I think about it a little more… maybe she did think I was pulling one on her. Well serves her right, she should have taken a look at my mouth first.

I don’t mess with dentists.

I had to go to an emergency dentist after one of the times of cracking my front tooth and he did a temporary bonding job. After handing me the mirror to look at the finished work, I had a new significantly longer tooth. Maybe he thought it would give me some leeway when I chipped it again… or that it might give me an advantage on, say biting someone? I don’t know. But he was very offended when I pointed out to him. Goodness.






Whelp, after the five year comment and looking at me straight in the eyes for a whole five seconds, she went and got the doctor. Still didn’t even take a glance at my pearly whites.


So the doctor comes in and sits down. I look like I’ve already ruined his day. Guess he heard about the five years comment. I oblige when he tells me to open up.

“So it looks like you’ve had braces.”

I perk up, and nodded with my mouth wide open, drool seeping out of the corner of my mouth. He could tell!

“So what happened to your bottom teeth then?”

And there went all my self esteem as my balloon deflated. Yes, my bottom teeth are crooked. My wisdom teeth were impacted and it caused my teeth to buckle. I spent four long years in braces.

Knowing that it was simply a rhetorical question as he had his hands in my mouth… (pet peeve – please don’t ask questions until you can allow me to answer) … he continued…

“bet your parents weren’t too pleased after spending all that money.”

Slightly contemplating on biting this man, I frowned. If only I had kept my longer tooth. I wanted to fabricate a sob story that would make him swallow his words, and apologize… but I didn’t, because he was right. If I had been good at wearing my retainer, my teeth wouldn’t have ended up like this. (Sorry mom and dad.) If only I had a permanent retainer like my hubby has.


So quick as a bunny, he explains that because of my lack of dental care and some other reasons, he will need to get 18 separate x-rays instead of the 12. It won’t cost me anything but we will have to do the cleaning at a separate time. He removes his hands from my mouth and jets from the room without a single word from me.


With the events that followed, I am pretty sure my dentist was in cahoots with my dentist and orthodontist back in northern Kentucky. Because the only thing I could gather from the 18 x-rays was that all of them were disappointed in me and wanted me to pay… and you wonder why I didn’t go to the dentist in five years.

The dental hygienist came back in and took a look at my mouth.

“So it looks like you have a small mouth. I will try to take the x-rays as quickly as possible as the plastic pieces you have to bite on to are the large size, the patient across the hall is using the smaller ones.”
In other words…

“These plastic pieces are going to cut the inside of your mouth and make you gag each of the 18 times. I will try to take the x-rays fast but if you move even the slightest bit as I shield myself a half a mile away, I have to come back and reposition you.”


After wiping the tears from my eyes and almost losing my breakfast a half a dozen times, the dentist came back super cheery and told me that I don’t have any cavities… but my gums are infected and I need to have them flushed out and receive antibiotics. That could possibly explain the pain I was having, which I had surprisingly forgotten in the torturous hours sitting in the hot seat.


Seeing him so cheery though left me seething. He was still supposed to be disappointed, not happy. I will have to try harder at my cleaning appointment this Monday. Although I was told that I it was not going to be a pain-free procedure and they would have to numb me. Got to remember not to mess with dentists, I might need 18 more x-rays or something.





Grumble. I dislike dentists.


Hmm … Well now that I think about it, maybe I could get what David had the next time I go to the dentist… Perhaps I will have a better experience!
(See video below)