Xanax, Nitrous, and Tiaras
in Giggles on June 16, 2015
So…yesterday I had to go to the dentist. I was WAY overdue. I had not been to the dentist in almost two and a half years. I know–I know, that places me smack-dab into the excellent-role-model-for-my-children category, but I can explain. I hate the dentist. I do not hate the actual person of the dentist, although the dentist that I saw many moons ago, was not all that personable, nor was he moderately compassionate to my delicate state of mind. Grant it, if memory serves, I may have tried to bite him, and I think there is a strong possibility that I slid out of the chair during my exam in a futile attempt to escape the brutality of the scraping and picking of the tortuous tools of the trade. AND, I am most certain his assistant tried to choke me with dental floss…but, I still do not hate the person of the dentist.
Naturally, after such an eventful episode I would be a bit hesitant to return to such a place. Or, possibly my reluctancy to return to that office had something to do with the fact that they asked me not to come back. Evidently their other patients spooked easily. Wimps. This was all fine by me! I have been blessed with strong and sturdy teeth. I have become exceptionally skilled at brushing. I do not need the dentist.
Or so I thought.
I chipped a tooth.
My hubster has lousy teeth. He has always had lousy teeth. He therefore cannot understand, fathom, nor comprehend why going to the dentist is such a monumental deal for me. For him, it is a fact of life. However, he did not particularly care for the last office either. He decided to do some recon work. Luckily, he needed a crown. My eyes lit up! I love tiaras! Diamonds are a girl’s best friend! Completely wrong kind of crown. Extreme sad face. He ended up finding an office about a stone’s throw from our house. He swore up and down that I would just LOVE THEM! I just needed to go in and make the appointment.
Let me help you fully understand something: I have certain personality traits. Some people might call them flaws, I prefer to call them quirky little endearing characteristics that make me—me. I needed a Xanax and dirty martini–JUST to make the appointment! Getting me in the chair would take a tranquilizer worthy of an African elephant hunt that nobody in Houston has ever seen before. Remember, it has been more than two years since I have seen the inside of a dentist office AND now I have a problem. This is more than a routine cleaning…I have a chip in a back tooth.
My husband evidently had prepped them for me. They were ready. They almost gassed me at the counter just to make the appointment. A week later, Jeff was driving me—yes driving me the three blocks to the dentist. Why was he driving me? One, to make sure I actually showed up. And two, because I had taken two of my anti-anxiety helpers that are normally reserved for plane flights. I told you, quirky character traits. Once we arrived, the office staff was super sweet, and they had the nitrous waiting for me…before we even started. I must say, the gas made the questions the doc asked that much more entertaining. Although, if I am being completely honest, some of my best work was done before I took anything! For instance, on my new patient forms under PSYCHOLOGICAL DISORDERS, I checked YES. The reason, “I don’t like going to the dentist. It makes me crazy.” When asked if I flossed, I said YES, Religiously. My new doc was thrilled, until I added Christmas, Easter and the Fourth of July–most likely to eat corn on the cob during those times.
That’s when he decided to gas me.
I promised him I would try and behave slightly better at his office than I did at the last office. After all, I liked him better so far than the last guy. Apparently, I was still more chatty than I should have been with two Xanax and a decent amount of nitrous; so he cranked it higher. That was for the exam. The hygienist had not even begun the cleaning. Two words: Hot Mess. The nitrous was cranked two more times before they were finished. Once by a random doc walking by, because I was having my own personal freak-out session, and could feel my hygienist trying to scrape the plague off of the backside of my teeth by way of the front of my teeth. We all thought it best to up my dose. And lastly by my new doc, who I was certain when this whole process started shared his name and gene pool with the Village Idiot from Pawn Stars (he does not–it is just really similar) to then finishing my cleaning; and having my new doc come in to check on me. However, after being on the mask for an hour he went from the Village Idiot on Pawn Stars, to the cover man for GQ and was 6’4″. Or at least, that’s what he told me, after I was on oxygen for about 10 minutes. But who really knows? Nitrous makes you say the darnedest things…
The good news is that I still have good teeth. The small chip in the back can be remedied at home–NO extra visits needed! So, the way I see it: I’m good for another two years. Hey, we all have our things…mine are dentists and airplanes. And spiders, and lizards in the house. I don’t really do very well with rodents, either. But, whatever.
Here’s hoping your day is squeaky clean!
-Dallas