Well, hello.
Now that we've gotten
that out of the way, let me tell you about my horrendous root canal. I was almost killed. But instead of just killing me straight out, my hygienist and
endodontist (that's the root canal specialist guy) just tortured me for about 1.5 hours and robbed me of my dignity. And also, gave me some strange blister. ON MY LIP. (Approximately 5 days before I have to stand up at a wedding in front of who
knows how many people and read something I wrote (I WROTE. READ.
OUTLOUD. IN FRONT OF PEOPLE.) for the bride and groom. So, people can be like, who's that chick with the
HERP? Anyway. I could tell something was awry from the moment I made my appointment because I was awkwardly informed that my fun
endodontist lady (
referenced here) was no longer practicing at said dental specialist. BALLS.
Cut to root canal day. I walk in. Early. BEFORE 8am. And as the only patient there I wait. Patiently. Ha. And then the lady comes out, presumably MY hygienist. And I look up and smile. And she turns away. (WHAT?) And she hovers around the front desk. (I'm watching. Confused.) And she takes her
sweetass time and then calls out. CALLS OUT (to the empty waiting room) "Tilly?" I look around the room (playing along folks) and start to collect my things (book and
ipod and phone, duh) and get up and she's already like halfway down the hall. NOT waiting for me. Uh,
ok. And then she proceeds to be a BITCH. Like, BIG. And I'm all, "why do you hate me?" And she's all, "because you are alive." And I'm all, "well, gee, that makes sense. Fuck you." And she's all, "NO. FUCK YOU." And then we sorta relive the whole "Breakfast Club" scene, minus, like, most of it.
Anyway. Seriously. She hated me. She kept stabbing me with that spit-vacuum thing and making me gag. And resting something (I had my eyes closed, so I'm not exactly sure what) on my shoulder and not being gentle with the x-ray things that totally cuts up your mouth and basically being rude. She didn't explain anything to me and when she spoke I couldn't understand a word she said and she wouldn't repeat herself. Like, when I said "what?" or "excuse me, what was that?" all nice-like, she would mumble something and walk out of the room. Then she accused me of moving the x-ray
mabobber. Then she complained it was too hot so she turned on a fan that pointed directly at my face.
Umm, what else. Oh yeah, she was MEAN. A really meanie
meano. While she was out of the room I
texted Fiji,"the hygienist is trying to KILL me." And I wasn't even joking.
Soooo, then the
duder came in and gave me these TWO
hugeass shots of
Novocaine which basically made my whole body convulse and both of them left the room while I had a minor panic attack and when they came back they're all, "How are you?" And I'm all, "well, actually, I feel really funny and lightheaded and my body is shaking uncontrollably and I think I'm dying." And he's all, "
alrighty then. We'll just get started." And I'm all, "
Ok. I guess I'll survive." Because HELLO. I am tough and would never want to be one of THOSE patients. You know, the problem ones. So basically I did yoga breaths to calm down, closed my eyes, and pretended that the hygienist was not trying to kill me. And then the lady sat me down to pay (you know, for them stealing my root, my dignity, and my sense of self) and she was eating. THE WHOLE TIME. Like, oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast. I can come back later. So, after that I walked outside and wandered into traffic and then luckily found the bus stop and called Fiji and cried about the mean lady, the fact that I could not feel the left side of my head, and that I was lost. But I wasn't lost. I was just confused. And then I went to
Dunkin Donuts and the lady looked at me all funny and I wanted to tell her that I just had a root canal and also that it is not polite to stare, but I didn't. I walked away. And then when I got home I looked in the mirror and noticed a strange BUMP on my lip and so I called the dentist place where the meanie lives and she was mean again and basically said that they had no idea why there was a bump on my lip and basically called me a whore with the
herp and hung up.
And then I lied on the couch and watched "Whose Wedding is it Anyway." And felt better. Because those people are crazy.
The end.
