The dentist... or how I stopped worrying and learned to love NO2

Before I begin, I should say that had I known the outpouring of positive attention this would garner, I might have seriously considered getting cancer years ago.

The offers of support and the kind comments about this blog are truly wonderful. I'm pleased so many people appear to enjoying my scribbling. I thank you all.

OK, enough of the mushy bullshit. Half of you don't believe it anyway.

I have a great dislike for dentists. Not as people, per se, but I do question what in the name of whatever you consider to be holy (for me it's bacon, brisket, & beer. And boobs.) would possess someone to enter such a questionable profession? Is it the money? It really must be the money. I mean, not ALL dentists are raving sadists, are they?

And they have to know their chosen profession has one of the highest rates of suicide of any profession... or job. And that great swaths of society despise them.

I mean, who here would actually invite a dentist to a party or out for beer? Can you imaging going for wings with a dentist? I can just see the twisted prick pull out dental floss after each wing.

No one needs that kind of negativity in their life.

That being said, as I think I've already mentioned, I like my new dentist, so far.

Full disclosure, I am writing this part the evening before my appointment.

Yes, she's pleasant and personable. Yes she promised me NO2 (if you don't know what that is then I can assume you didn't read the last post and I'm not telling you. Go back and read it. I'll wait.) which is about the only thing that makes dental work even close to bearable.

But, how do I know what lurks beneath? I've seen Horrible Bosses and to be honest, a kinky, slutty Jennifer Aniston is the stuff of dreams, but it may too much to assume my new dentist is even remotely similar. Probably not.

What was I talking about?

Oh right... the dentist.

I arrived on time and was settled into the torture chair. They were all smiles and reassuring under their masks, the lying swine.

They went over what they were going to do to me, leaving out the part where they planned to inflict unbearable pain and suffering on my poor mouth. 3 repairs.

It should be noted that there was a little concern that I had already started my radiation. The dental work should have been done prior to the radiation treatments commencing. But, since I had no issues in my mouth, like open sores and the like, and my last bloodwork was good, they decided to proceed.

You could almost hear the glee in her sadistic little voice.

A rubber cup was placed over my nose and I was informed to try to breathe only through my nose as they were giving me oxygen.

The good stuff was yet to come.

I'm not exactly sure when the NO2 started flowing, but I assume it coincided with the topical anesthetic. Y'know, the anesthetic they use before giving you the anesthetic.

I was surprised that it didn't taste completely disgusting. Pleasant is not a word I'd use, but it wasn't the rank, medicinal taste I have come to know an loathe. Surely dentistry isn't becoming kinder and gentler?.

The needles. Those long, pointy, pinching bastards. Those implements of torture are only a harbinger of the horrors to come.

The first needle sank into my gums, spewing its toxic chemicals into my muscles.

I didn't feel a fucking thing.

I mean, I was aware that something was happening, but there was no pain. Only a slight bit of pressure as if someone was very gently pushing on my gum.

The second was about the same.

Then I was warned that the third, and mercifully final, needle may have different intentions.

Indeed it did.

However, it was only a small pinch. By past dental experiences, it really didn't rank in the chart of obscene and intolerable pain. But still... it WAS uncomfortable!

Now suitably numb, Cruella the dentist got to work in earnest. Out came the drill. That most dreaded of dental apparatus. The boring tool that rattles your skull and hits every nerve in your face until you can not take the unbearable pain and, mercifully, pass out from the pain.

Apparently the NO2 and anesthetic did their jobs.

I felt virtually nothing. Just a vibration. I mean there was the requisite spray of water and the god-awful stench that is created when they grind your teeth, but no measurable pain.

I neglected to mention the new suction thing they have now. It's like a rubber stopper that they cram in your gob and it continually sucks up the water and crap so it doesn't go down your throat. There is also air, which at first I thought was water so I was trying not to swallow. It also holds your mouth open to, I assume, assist them with their nefarious deeds.

Fillings have changed since I was a kid. No more metal pins and the dentist pushing the compound into the hole he created with all his might, nearly shoving your head through the chair and into the filthy floor.

Now they grab a little tube of some compound and, I assume, squirt it in. Then they seem to clamp it for a few seconds and a quick shape and it's done.

In fairness, I could be way off base as I couldn't see any of this. But it seemed pretty quick and efficient.

There was one moment where I actually laughed.

After finishing the first filling, Cruella took a long strand of floss and actually flossed the repair work. I laughed as, for some reason, this struck me as funny, but as I had the suction gag in my mouth and the NO2 cup over my nose, I must have sounded like I was in respiratory failure. Everything immediately stopped and faking concern, Cruella asked if I was alright. I can only assume she didn't want me to expire before she'd had her money's worth.

I, of course, bright boy that I am, attempted to say "I'm fine."

Instead, I came out as "Arh fraugh."

Eyebrows rose.

I gave the thumbs up and everyone relaxed and work proceeded.

The other repairs were completed without incident and I was eventually unhooked from the gag and nose cup.

I should have mentioned another twist I've never had in a dentist's chair. Blood pressure and pulse ox  monitors. Indeed, I wasn't allowed to leave until the assistant was satisfied my BP was satisfactory.

I'm not sure if this in common because of the cancer or if it was an attempt to head off any future litigation.

Alas, I neglected to take any photos of the torture chamber. I will endeavor to do that when I am forced to return for a follow-up in a couple of weeks.

As I had some time before my appointment with the world's greatest nutritionist (more on that shortly), I thought I'd wander down and see if I could get irradiated early.

The scheduling people appear to have taken a completely unreasonable and unwarranted dislike to me and have randomly scheduled my radiation appointments, instead of keeping them more or less the same time everyday, as I'd requested.

A lot of them are late in the afternoon.

However, I have found that I can trot down to the radiation unit and hang around as a walk-in. Assuming they have an opening, I can get in early. So far this has worked so I thought I'd try again as I had a coupla hours to wait. Surely I'd be able to get in.

I know what you are expecting but I was called in within about 5 minutes, which surprised even me.

Wham, bam, zap you ma'am, and I was outta there.

This gave me enough time to do some running around. I need to buy a thermometer as, apparently, I have to closely measure my temperature.

I had bought one last week. The next day I get an e-mail telling me that if I spend X amount, starting today, I will also get a $10 gift card. So I did what any right thinking person would do.

I returned the initial thermometer and waited until today to buy another one. And get my gift card.

They wouldn't let me use the gift card for this purchase which I thought was a bit miserly.

Also realizing I needed gas, I asked Android Auto for direction to the nearest Costco gas station. It instead, decided to list them in an order that I can only assume was farthest to closest.

Android Auto doesn't like it when you call it names.

Anyway, I found the one I wanted and off I went to get gas. This was uneventful and doesn't merit any further comment.

Back at the cancer centre, I still had about 20 minutes before my appointment. As I hadn't eaten all morning (I had to fast as I was having NO2), I thought grabbing a quick bite was a good idea.

There are 2 places to eat here in what is laughingly called the "cafeteria."

It isn't.

One is a place with an assortment of food from pizza to butter chicken, to sandwiches. It looks alright and I briefly considered fries and gravy but frankly, $1.49 for gravy as an add-on to soggy oven fries just wasn't appetizing. So I opted for the second option.

The ubiquitous Tim Horton's.

Now, I don't really have much against Timmies, but they have not been the same since they stopped baking their doughnuts in-store.

Regardless, I opted for a coffee and a maple dip doughnut. The one, last maple dip doughnut that was in the case beside me when I was ordering.

Having ordered and paid, I moved to the other end to wait for my order along with the throng of great unwashed that were gathered.

The girl who took my order (it was her first day) brought me my coffee. My doughnut was nowhere to be found.

I went back and inquired as to the status of said doughnut. A supervisor was called and I was informed it must have been sold to someone else. Would I like something else?

No I fucking would not like something else. Like what? A honey cruller (who in the hell actually eats those anyway?)?

I want the doughnut you sold me. Y'know, the one I just paid for.

There was a lot of muttering and what seemed consternation and confusion. Meanwhile, I am running out of time.

I suggested they give me my money back. This completely reasonable suggestion seemingly fell on deaf ears.

After being completely ignored (and blocking one of the tills) a little woman came out and handed me a maple dip doughnut which can only be described as hurriedly assembled.

On the plus side, it was slightly warm but the maple "dip" appeared to have been applied by a nearsighted rhinoceros with palsy. Add to that, the wax paper that it was sitting on, was almost completely wrapped around the entire doughnut.

Whatever. I was hungry and almost out of time.

I grabbed a seat and attempted to eat the damn thing. I was trying to not get myself all covered with maple goo as I'm not fond of being sticky.

I think we all know how that turned out.

With having to peel off the wax paper while still keeping my finger on the non-goo side, I somehow managed to get a glob on the maple goo on my reading glasses.

I can tell you that this shit doesn't clean off of glasses without a protracted fight. The less said about this the better. Just use your imagination.

Anyhoo, Off I went to meet with the world's greatest nutritionist.

And just why is she the world's greatest nutritionist, you may ask?

Because her advice is to eat more fat. Butter, bacon, full-fat dairy, cheese, eggs and the like.

The woman is a goddess.

And undoubtedly a genius.

And I'm sure her advice has very little to do with the threat that radiation therapy can cause issues with eating and cause unwanted weight loss. I'm pretty sure that's just a coincidence.

She is also a really nice and pleasant person. I will listen to her.

Now I want fries and gravy. Nutritionist approved.

All good things.

S