During Christmas break, I went in for a regular cleaning at the dentist office I have been visiting since I was very young. Just a little background: I hate going to the dentist. It is definitely not on my list of favorite activities. At this specific appointment, my dentist told me that one of my fillings was cracking. He quickly fixed it and sent me on my way back to school. After that appointment, my tooth was in horrible pain.
Five months later, the pain was much worse, and I was starting to experience aches up the side of my face. I decided enough was enough and headed into the dentist. I was shaking with fear as I walked in to my appointment, afraid that they would fix the filling again. Little did I know that that is the scenario I should have hoped for.
After doing some painful tests that had me in tears, my dentist diagnosed a procedure: root canal.
We then called the office that does the procedure and made an appointment for me—an appointment for THAT DAY. I had heard the terrible stories about root canals, and I was being told that I would undergo the horrible procedure three hours from then. I walked out of the office still shaking like a leaf.
Three hours later, I found myself in the chair of the endodontist. They too had to test the tooth, but I would have much rather undergone the tests I had experienced early that day instead of the endodontist’s tests. The endodontist took a small, freezing cotton ball and touched it to my tooth; this simple act caused me the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. It had me screaming and instantly crying. The endodontist stated, “Yep, that’s our tooth,” to which I wanted to respond, “Oh rly??”
That was by far the worst part of the whole day, and the rest of it was a breeze. They gave me a bountiful amount of Novocain, and when I could still feel drill, they gave me another shot of that amazing concoction. I sat there quietly as they drilled into my tooth, removed the roots and filled the canals. It was a piece of cake (for me). Root canals are definitely not what people make them out to be. The testing before the procedure was the absolute worst part, and in comparison, the rest felt like nothing—literally. I think it did help quite a bit that the endodontist and her assistant were casually talking about clothing as they drilled my tooth open.
Not only was the procedure a breeze, but recovery has been extremely easy as well. I have had minimal pain that is easily fixed by ibuprofen.
The moral of this unnerving story (get it?) is this: sometimes you wake up thinking it will be a normal day, but then you have a curveball thrown at you (or in my case, a drill thrown at my tooth). Even though this curveball may not be fun, the bad day will end, and tomorrow will probably be a lot better.
