The Root Of The Problem OR Stealing Nerves In The Mines Of Moria

Today I had my very first root canal. I asked for some of the infected nerve goop that they endontist pulled out to put in my baby book, but he seemed to think I was only asking because I was in a Vallium-induced haze. How wrong he was, how wrong he was.

I have a RATIONAL fear of the dentist. Despite my own dentist being a hug-giving, tiny sweetheart, she is a dirty, dirty LIAR. She filled my first cavity for me when I was in my late 20s, and promised me that I wouldn't feel a thing. Then this wonderful sweetheart of a darling dentist shoved a mining instument into my face and clipped a nerve. Human reflexes dictated that I jump off of the chair and knock over a small tray of flouride. Her sweet Iranian accent broke the tension when she said, "Okay, Psyche... you take a short break and I go get you the Vallium..." We ended up finishing the procedure the next day with additional, extra-strength Vallium.

Naturally, I was out of my mind terrified when she told me that the intense throbbing in my jaw and inability to tolerate heat, cold, sweet, air or even my own saliva on my molar was due to an infected root. Crud. I visited the endonist (who charmingly looked like Carrol Spinney) and he offered me the choice between being awake with no nitrous oxide or being asleep at twice the cost. Since my insurance will only cover the cost of one non-morpheoused tooth, I had to deal. I had to take the pass through the mountains and go with him into the Mines of Moria.

I told him that I as a flight risk and the Spinney look-alike assured me he would give me the max amount of happy pills allowed. I arrived dutifully 45 minutes early and swallowed the blue pill. By the time my procedure began, I was still as nervous as a bag of cats, and he had his hand so far down my throat that he could have put green fuzzy pants on me and called me Oscar. The pills really only kicked in about halfway through, at which point I could have fallen asleep. Then they finished, I went home, and did fall asleep.

The legend goes that the dwarves dug too deep and unleashed an incredible evil... a Balrog that even the orcs and goblins that frequented the deep caves feared. The denist I had previously must have also dug too deeplly to fill my cavity and unleased a terrible evil as well. OR maybe I was the one who dug too deeply because I ate too many raisins and didn't floss well enough. [Side note, no one taught me to floss until I was 28.]

When I awoke, I was slightly dazed and wearing white robes. I can't feel a thing in that tooth. I was given more painkillers, but feel a complete lack of need to use them. So yeah, much less climactic that Return of the King, but there you go.

OMG, don't get me started on Return of the King... but that's another post. Point is, mission accomplished. Well, until I have to go in to get a the crown placed on my tooth. That is, if my tooth will finally accept its destiny and reforge the sword that slew the hand of Sauron 3000 years ago...