Toothy

Now this is how you brush your gums properly...

Am nursing a rather sore upper jaw that's feeling a bit lonely since the last wisdom tooth left in my mouth decided to vacate the premises via my new dentist's firm grip over the weekend, undoubtedly to join his 3 other friends for Listerine cocktails and happy hour by the beach in Tooth Heaven. And now there is a hole in my mouth, which unfortunately seems to be attracting all types of unwanted squatters like a vagrant grain of rice or drifting crumb of cookie.

My dentist of over 10 years, she who saw me through the trauma of 5 tooth extractions, 2 years of orthodontry humiliation and being called "metal mouth", and many unpleasant cleanings in between, decided to call it a day, opting for the greener pastures of retirement Down Under, over 2 years ago. Being particularly choosy with who I was going to let put their hands in my mouth next, after surveying several friends and colleagues, I found my new dentist - let's call him Dr. Riddim (he shares the same name as a famous Reggae/dancehall artist) who came highly recommended.

By the by, laughing gas is no laughing matter - it's like having a completely surreal out of body experience, or, 5 shots of tequila in quick succession, I suppose. After about 10 minutes of deep breathing, you start to feel the effects take hold of your body. First your fingers start to get a bit tingly, then you're legs. Then your head starts to feel heavy, and then your eyes a bit droopy. And then everything just goes a bit dark and distant. Yes, I think would describe the experience as more "morbid" and less "funny, ha-ha". I think no one likes the feeling of being out of control, especially when surrounded by bright lights and strange people with surgical masks peering down at you with sharp instruments. (Now, if we were in some club on the dancefloor with maybe a little RnB playing on the speakers, well that's a different thing altogether.) I suppose that's why when the assistant dentist saw the growing panic on my face, she said "Don't worry. You're still in control."

After the extraction, even after 5 minutes of breathing in fresh oxygen, I left the dentist's a bit woozy and worried about what gibberish I may have said under the influence to the rather charming Dr. Riddim (a man wielding what can only be described as a metal clamp with what looks like The Jaws of Death, all the while making terrifying whizzing sounds and heading towards the inside of your mouth, who can STILL manage to pull off "charming" is an amazing feat by no means, mind you).

He did have a good sense of humour, though, the kind that may be hard to appreciate when you're the one sitting in the dentists' chair:

(Loud cracking sound)

Me: Whaaaaa wath thad?! (concerned about the loud cracking sound in my mouth while trying to ask questions with an open mouth without drooling on my dentists' hand)
Dentist: We're done! It's out.
Me: Really! That wath quick!
Dentist: No, i'm just kidding. We haven't even started yet.
Me: What?! Theriously? Okay...
Dentist: No, i'm just kidding we're done.
Me: What!

Either way, out of all 4 wisdom tooth extractions I've experienced, this last one was by far the quickest, most painless and least traumatizing of them all.

Though, I have a feeling it may have had to do with my dentist being located in a mall next to Pavillion, and the unexplainable shopping receipts and shopping bags I found in my handbag when I got home later that evening, after I had fully recovered from the ahem, effects of that terrible laughing gas.

Funny what drugs can make you do.