In 2006 I had a very bad experience.
Without going into all the tedious details, a simple replacement filling (not really needed), caused me prolonged, debilitating pain. And no doctor of any kind could identify its source. I lost weight. I had a horrid sore throat and was convinced I had throat cancer. Food lost all its flavor. I was dizzy. Thought maybe I had a brain tumor. I couldn't sleep. I didn't feel like me. I was anxious. My hands tingled. I almost had a nervous breakdown. I had a root canal, then later a crown. And eventually an implant six years later — all on the same tooth. It was hell.
Ever since, I have dreaded going to the dentist. Even for a cleaning, for fear it'd lead to something much worse, as it did in 2006.
But my teeth need to be cleaned. And x-rayed. And checked. So today I go to a new dentist, Dr. James Koretz. His office is near my apartment, which makes getting there easy.
The hygienist is Maureen. I immediately like her friendly, open and empathetic style. I describe my history. And I ask for nitrous oxide from beginning to end. Maureen complies, wanting my experience to be a good one.
And it is.
The hour and a quarter feels like five minutes. I am not exaggerating. I feel nothing. Not the full mouth x-rays. And not the vigorous use of what-look-like torture-weapons in my mouth. Were in not for my watch, I'd think nothing was actually done.
But my teeth are cleaner. The dentist tells me the x-rays are fine, and that my gums look good.
I make my next appointment before leaving. Almost wishing I was told me to come back in four months, not six.
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