The Saga

Well the root canal went off, but not without its share of hitches. Really I guess it went fine, but I wasn't prepared...

I went in, mostly concerned about the shots, since last time they had to give me extra ones because my mouth refused to numb up. I told the doctor this and he responded by giving me greater doses and more shots. (I only felt the first two, and they weren't as bad as I remembered). So then he started explaining everything he was going to do. And I suppose that's good, but it sort of icked me out. Last time I was shielded behind video glasses watching that Sandra Bullock Christmas movie (which I can't now think of the name) during the whole thing--it was fantastic. This time, I had to keep closing my eyes because I could see that enormous needle going in and out of my mouth, not to mention all those little files. And also I was getting sprayed a little in the face by all the drilling and water spray. Still, that all went fine.

During the procedure the dentist mentioned that he'd invited his son (a dental student) to come in and watch the procedure. This was considerably less offensive than having a whole class come trooping into the delivery room while I was trying to give birth to my second son, however, I couldn't imagine where this guy would find a place to stand. Between me, the dentist, and the hygenist (assistant/whatever), every inch of space around me was already occupied. Well, he never showed.

Anyway, so I was all done and ready to go, had seen my x-rays, gotten my prescriptions (just in case), and walked up to the reception desk to pay when I started feeling woozy. So, I asked if I could sit down, did, and got back up a couple of minutes later. I managed to write out my check before feeling it really come on again, and went stumbling back to my chair. Now I was woozy and sweaty and I just couldn't get cool enough. So I slumped all around in the dentist's chair (looking lovely, I'm sure) trying to feel better. I considered for a moment taking off my sandals and putting my bare feet on the tile floor but figured they wouldn't appreciate that very much.

The hygenist eventually found me, adjusted the chair to recline position, brought me some water (which I proceeded to dribble all over my shirt) and a wet towel. She then took my blood pressure (76/43) and was alarmed. Soon I started to feel better and she took it again (85/54). Then she stared pressing me to go to the doctor, insisted I call her when I got home, and finally let me go. I felt icky when I got home, for a little while, then got better. Then again last night I felt icky. But today, so far so good.

I do have an itemized listing of all the dental work I still need and my dentist's number at his lakehouse. I told my husband this and his response was, 'Since you're paying for a good portion of that lakehouse, you should have his number!'
So this is just the beginning of the saga!