conscious sedation

I like my dentist largely because she doesn't lecture me about how I could be taking better care of my teeth, which is a big time-saver for both of us. And most of the time, my visits to the dentist are routine and painless - my teeth have fared well over the years, which I attribute to drinking a lot of milk and blind luck. But the other day, I had three fillings put in, which was a mildly painful experience: not the actual work, but in the time lying in the chair with nothing to do but think.

Things started poorly. I arrived half an hour late, thinking the appointment was at 3pm, despite the cliche' (my appointment was actually scheduled for "tooth-hurty"). As the hygienist escorted me to the chair, it occurred to me that annoying your dentist is unwise, but the dentist was as cordial as always. They affixed the spit cloth around my neck (I'm sure there's a technical term for it, but let's face facts), and tilted the chair back far enough to have all my blood rush to my head - which you'd think dentists would want to avoid.

As for conversations with the dentist, well, there's not much I can suggest beyond the definitive discussion of the topic. My dentist is a decent conversationalist for the most part, telling relatively innocuous stories about getting together with the relatives for holidays, trips she's taken, and so on. She does have a tendency to stray into some depressing topics. For example, after she told me about her nephew, who has leukemia and was recently contacted by the Make-a-Wish Foundation, I found I was unable to ask what kind of electric toothbrush she'd recommend.

The dentist gave me a topical anesthetic before administering the shot that would numb my jaw, and that wasn't so bad. But the hygienist jabbed me a few times with the suction tube. And I winced a couple of times as the Dremel tool (well, maybe it was something else, I don't know) seemed to find a spot that wasn't numbed up. She advised me to raise a hand if something hurt, and then most of her conversation was with the hygienist. So I laid there for about an hour with little to do but think, and that's when things got uncomfortable.

I don't get a whole lot of time for introspection. Having a family means not getting a whole lot of 'me' time, for one. I have a short drive to work, and considering how I drive, it's probably better that I focus on the road anyway. At work, I'm constantly busy and frequently interrupted. When I climb into bed at night, I'm generally not the type to toss and turn while I replay the day's events.

But in the dentist chair, I started to think about things I've procrastinated on. Lots of things at work; it's easy to get caught up in the tactical and avoid the strategic. At home, there are countless projects to be done, like replacing the railing on the porch steps. Then there's this blog; I've toyed with the idea of figuring out how much cat litter it would take to completely fill the basement, so I'd have to figure out how much space the water heater takes up. And so on.

After about an hour, the drilling stopped, and they sat me up in the chair. The dentist told me that if I felt any sharp spots on my fillings, I could contact the office on Monday. At that point, it occurred to me how foolish it was to schedule dental work before the start of the four-day Thanksgiving weekend.

When I was a kid, my parents told me that teeth were like bees: ignore them and they'll go away. That didn't have much impact on me. Maybe I can use my recent visit as a warning, but I suspect that in his lifetime, dental visits will be a bit more entertaining.