I had reached my pain threshold, a point I didn’t think possible.
I could no longer bear the sleepless nights, the inability to chew on both sides, or the sharp, throbbing aches caused by a change in temperature.
Now, having endured the tedious wait, walk, lay back and examination, my dentist delves right into her no smoking ad pitch. But, as I listened, I couldn’t help but think to myself, no shit Sherlock, it’s almost been a year with my chipped tooth, of course, the smoking will irritate the exposed nerve.
As I drizzle remnants of the blood infused mouthwash, set aside the half-filled cup; then turn to face my dentist, I listen as she recites the set price and procedures. She details how fortunate I am for “acting on the damaged tooth now as opposed to a later date.”
It’s the second of three procedures – I’m asked to open and relax my jaw wide for the numbing of my gum. “Raise your hand if you feel any pain,” she says. I extend my right arm and gesture a response with my thumb. As the ET finger, looking needle is pressed against my gum, I feel an uncomfortable, but manageable twinge. I close my eyes and think to myself, if that’s the level of pain I’m going to experience, this will be a walk in the park. And as i lay in peace, unable to feel one side of my jaw, my dentist decides to blindside me with a paring knife. Or, what certainly felt like a paring knife. I could not comprehend the pain since my gums were supposedly numb. So, another dose was applied, and another, and one more until my dentist decided its best we reschedule. My pulp tissue was inflamed, and in her words, “your nerve is angry today.”