Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Drooling and in Pain. Why I hate Dentists Part 2

I was back at the dentist again this morning, the second of three scheduled appointments to fix my teeth.  To be honest, I thought I had been treating them quite well.  I brush twice a day, don't smoke, I don't drink sugary drinks and I have plenty of calcium-rich milk in my coffee.  Sure, we all know now I didn't floss, but it's not one those things I was ever taught, and I guess it just slipped my mind.  A friend of mine told me her dentist said 'there are people who can get away with not flossing, but you are not one of those people.'

Apparently neither am I.

My face is so numb that one of my eyelids keep drooping and the occasional tear which squeezes itself out could be due to the multiple anaesthetic injections I received or the miserable hole in which I find myself.  My lips feel enormous and I swear I am drooling, but my chin is so numb I can't actually be sure.  I tried to drink some water with the multiple anti-inflammatories and pain killers the dentist told me I would need, and I promptly spilt it all down my face and chest.  No drinking in public then.  Righto.

The funny thing was that she needed to keep giving me extra anaesthetic, and not because I am a complete wimp but because the women in my family seem to have a very high requirement for pain relief.  This became apparent after the birth of my eldest daughter, and finally succumbing to the need for an epidural after 12 hours of labour, what should have taken 10 minutes took over an hour until I was actually numb.  It happened to my sister a year later, and it was only then that our mum mentioned the same thing had happened all those many moons ago when we were born.  Rather useful information that would have been helpful before the babies were born perhaps.

The downside to this affliction is that it takes much longer to wear off, and so I am yet again faced with the prospect of heading off to uni looking like I have the palsy, with a demented smile that would scare young children and - quite likely - a line of dribble down my chin.

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