Well, lads. It happened. I had root canal.
My name is Nicola. I’m 25 years old and I’ve had root canal.
But who cares, you know? They’re just teeth! I’m not ashamed. These love handles and rotten tooth did not make themselves! I had fun!
Enough of the body positivity, let’s debrief the process.
I’d dropped us off before as I made another appointment for the good old root removal. I booked a 4:45pm appointment so I could go home and weep and it was very much welcomed.
So, aye, anyway. Here we go.
I walked into ‘the room’ and sat my fat arse down in the chair. Then the fun began.
‘Right Nicola,’ the dentist says. The bold driller and the dental assistant are fiddling around with equipment I’m determined not to make eye contact with. No sir.
‘So! I hear my mum’s getting braces!” I chime. Too nervous to shut the hell up.
‘Ha yeah.” Cheers mate. Way to put me at ease.
In comes the needle, a little more numbing this time but still not unpleasant. I’ve swallowed some of the stuff too. Way. Baggy throat.
‘Ok Nicola, I’m going to take you through for an X-Ray just now just so I can see what needs done and we can keep a track of what we’re doing.”
‘That’th cool,” getting numb now you see.
So off we go through to the X-Ray haven and I get my see through picture taken whilst holding a piece of cardboard in my mouth. Haha HIYA!
Back to the room we go and I’m all numb.
‘Right Nicola, I’m going to pop this over your mouth. This isolates the tooth and means I can get in and see what I’m doing.’
No joke. This was so funny I had to laugh when the dentist put it over my face. Nervous laughter yes but if I had to laugh! my mouth wasn’t available at the time to tell a jonny joke!
Know how when you’re young, it’s a sunny day and you and your pals find an old plastic sheet, make it slippy with water and soap and slide down it? It was like that. Covering my nose and mouth, holding my gub open with a clamp. Pure sexy.
Then in comes a clamp that goes over my tooth and pulls my gum down out the way. Aya my man!
Off we go! The drilling begins. 45 minutes of solid open mouth. I’d make a smashing Sasha Grey by this point. The dentist goes in between drilling, measuring my tooth, drilling, poking away. The dental assistant is sooking away all my spit and I don’t know where to put my tongue. I mean, the rest of my teeth and tongue are free to move, they’re covered by the sheet of slip n slide but I’m still super scared I’ll swallow a tooth poker. Luckily none of it hurts.
By the half way mark, the dentist is using my chest as another table to hold his teeth pokey tools. Pure cool man. Pure cool. But no biggy, I’m at his mercy with my mouth clamped open anyway!
Before I know it, my 45 minutes are up and I can close my mouth again. He’s filled my holey tooth with a temporary filling and my mouth is once again in my possession. Woop.
But it’s not over. I’m wandered back to have another X-Ray. Will the photography ever end?! Being papped left, right and centre here!
Another X-Ray is taken with a wedge of cardboard jammed in my trap and once that’s out, I’m free to go. Yass!
I wander out to the reception desk, make an appointment for another two weeks to have my tooth filled with a smashing white filling then I’m free! My months of hell are over! Over!
And what do I do next? I go home, curl up on the couch with a blanket and watch The Hunger Games: Catching Fire.
Well, she’s having a worse time than me so it gives me an inch of comfort.
So here we are! A week later and my tooth no longer has a root in it. I don’t feel any different but I haven’t touched fizzy juice since. I’m sure that will change in due course when my fat pie survival instincts kick in again. I have had some chocolate after all…
Maybe I’ll fill you in when I have my filling, maybe I won’t… We’ll just have to see how much of a hammering my purse takes when he eventually fills my teefz!