#nightmare

Truly said…

Some tortures are physical

And some are mental,

But the one that is both

Is Dental.

Lights. Rolling Camera. Action… No, there is no actor, no director…just me on the sofa, below the spot-light, praying to God to save me from the evil-looking endodontic surgeon.

        Yeah. You guessed it right. The setting is a dentist’s clinic, with me surrounded by the most bulky, daunting machines, daunting: especially when you know what they are going to do with you. To me, the dentist somehow resembled Dr. Oc from the Spiderman series, putting all his fingers into my mouth, earnestly searching for something.

        All this was a result of a huge cavity in a molar of mine. According to the Doc, I had two options. First: Get off the molar, an easy way out. Second: RCT, which unfortunately was a better alternative in my father’s opinion.

        So began my agonizing ordeal.  The dentist did not leave a stone unturned in doing all the drilling, demolition and construction work in my mouth. Tears came out, but the smile on my face was always there, as I once learned- “No smile is as beautiful as the one that struggles through the tears.” Even after using sprays and thousands of injections to deaden the pain, the soreness lasted for about five to six hours. The suction machine was capable enough to bring drought in a well watered land; mine was a small little mouth. The first sitting was over. Coming out of the room, I sighed in relief. There were patients waiting for their turn. I smiled. Okay, I smiled wickedly. A confession: It is good to see others in the trauma we are in.

        The tongue is ever turning to the aching tooth-Thomas fuller.

My tongue was no different. It did go against the dentist’s advice. The second sitting was scheduled the next day. I entered the clinic in reluctance. Some other patient was being treated. I heard him say, “Doctor Saahab, I have yellow teeth what do I do?” Felt like answering him, “Put on a brown tie.” But anyways, I had grave issues to address then, so I refrained from doing so.

        A patient, an old lady, sitting beside me, with almost no teeth in her mouth, was continuously having a debate with her daughter-in-law, on the other side of the phone. The whole tenor of the conversation told what the daughter-in-law was suffering through. Seriously, old women and men, with every falling tooth become more biting.

“The smile of a child is the most beautiful thing in the world, don’t ruin it.”- read a poster on the wall in-front of me. And beside it was a picture of a kid with bad teeth. Nice way to invite patients. But my smile was ruined after the first meeting with the Doc-an offence with deadly consequences.

Smile design-implants-braces-RCT… why would one want to get their smile designed? Is it something to be worked on? Meanwhile, the Doc called my name. My heart raced like it was a race for life. At that moment it could have pumped gallons of blood. But this time, nothing much was to be done. The dentist did it like a demon. The cavity was filled temporarily which would be made permanent two days later and capping after another two days. I was elated, only because it was over.

No worry, only smile, away from the dentist, life’s worthwhile.