I know me and I know me well. Growing up, I wasn’t exactly the girly type who’d sit boxed up in lacey frocks or well done hair sans fly-a ways, neatly done nails or win hands down for the best dressed Barbie dolls. Nope, not me.
I was a capricious tomboy roughing it up with my brothers and the neighborhood boys. I was the misfit who’d see nothing wrong in going on a simulated rescue mission. Of course, the guys would sneer at my brother for tagging me along, but then I doubt he had much choice growing up with a bossy kid like me. The rest of my adolescence saw a lot of bike falls, knee-elbow bruises, stitches on my knee and forehead (at which point my doting father cringed at who would want to marry me.) I also had a tonsillectomy which made its way to the top of my most ‘unfavorable experience’ list. Gurgling my own blood was not exactly on my agenda but then neither is most of the inauspicious stuff we have to deal with. If anything I have been fairly brave (yeah my modesty shines through in times of adversities as well) bearing everything with a grin, shrugging it off and getting on with other stuff.
Today was different. I had to see a dentist. If I had to trust my screaming instincts I would have bolted outta there before she said “hello”, but I was in pain and popping pills is not exactly my idea of a permanent solution. I knew that dentists’ thrived on patients like me to get a ‘paisa vasool,’ and that made me more nervous. She seemed nice, sure! To her I was business; to me I seemed like fresh meat! My fearless façade was wiped out in a jiffy when I heard the unthinkable. I needed to get a filling! The scene suddenly felt like a triple retake zoom on the innocuous young bahu who exposes a covert operation to kill her.
For most people the unthinkable would vary in the degree of pain it caused. My mom and sis would have a root canal or get a handful of teeth pulled out, all in one sitting. I dreaded anything that hindered with my ability to eat, chew and swallow. After all food is ‘fuel’ for the human body and I wasn’t going to let some fancy doctor take that privilege away from me. Over the years I’ve developed a high endurance for pain, 50+ stitches on my body at different places are a screaming proof to that figure, but digging holes inside my mouth, whether for beautification or to end the misery of pain in my case, just wasn’t justified.
After some serious inspection and some prodding, she pointed out that I have two cavities both in my wisdom teeth. I was offended. I am extremely good with my dental care; I brush, floss and clean every unreachable corner with care, precisely to be able to avoid things such as these. Well obviously I didn’t do good enough and I was going to be punished for it. I just hoped it wouldn’t cost me my tooth, literally! I was already talking in a high pitched stressed out voice by now. The doctor explained to me that it was no big deal to have cavities (yeah sure) and that I needed to get a plain and simple filling. She also conveniently told me that I can have them both pulled out and there is no use of wisdom teeth as such. I did a double re-take on her last. I wished she would be gentler with the news she broke to me, I mean hello after all these are my teeth, my wisdom teeth. I had no clue why they existed if all we had to do was pull ‘em out like weeds in the backyard.
I weighed my options and then succumbed. The doctor got ready with her gloves and her assistant got the equipment ready. Incase you folks didn’t know, dental procedures do not come cheap. I sat down warily on the reclined chair. I was asked to open my mouth as wide as I could, without screaming. So I did. And then, what felt like the most painful shock treatment to my tooth started. Apparently, they first ‘drill’ the tooth and get the gooey stuff out and then fill it with some cement hard stuff. Again did not know, can’t say did not care! Ignorance was NOT bliss in this case. I was holding onto the chair like my life depended on it. The drilling resumed and this time it was accompanied by a dull and distant noise. I suddenly realized that I was the source of the nagging sound that my larynx subconsciously made when she kept digging at my nerve endings. She paused to change the tip on the hand drill and I quickly assessed the distance between me and the door to make a mad dash for it. The suction tube was still in my mouth, darn it. No escape.
I endured the pain for what seemed like eternity. It drained me of my strength and left a rubbery aftertaste. Who cares? I couldn’t feel my jaw and my mouth which had a hard time staying wide open for so long refused to shut. We were close to drawing the curtains on this one, the doctor got ready with the filling, it was about time. After smearing and filling the cavity she proceeded to clear up the icky cement stuff. She warned that it might lead to some sensitivity as the cement dries and asked me to abstain from eating or drinking anything for a couple of hours, sure, the taste of her gloves in my mouth made it impossible for me to think of any food anyway. I got up and paid for the painful experience I wondered how many of the room full of people outside, heard me squirm and scream a lil while ago. As I turned to thank her, I prayed deep down that I should never have to come back here for as long as possible, impractical but who cares, I just survived a filling!
