T (e) ethered to trouble
And then God said let there be Toothaches, root canals and dentists, and speaking thus he gave us ‘teeth’. If you are one of the few fortunate ones who have never been subjected to the wretchedness of a toothache… maybe you can never sympathize with our clan.
It all began innocently enough when one fine morning, I discovered to my horror that I could not feast on ice creams or have cold water because it triggered an intense wave of pain in either side of my jaws. Imagine the agony of this discovery on a 13 yr. old! But bravado rules in our family and so do troubling teeth (mother has 4 missing molars, father’s legendary toothaches endeared him to all the dentists of the town, Uncle hardly smiles for the fear of revealing his discoloured teeth…). So, it was decided to consult the dentist. All the telephone numbers under the name of DENTIST were dialed; friends and family were improvised with the (Herculean) task of finding the best dentist and sheepishly explained the cause (me!) of the turmoil. Finally I found myself being elbowed into a funny little waiting room, and my solicitous family (sniggering cousins included) was asked to wait there while the doctor examined my all-important teeth. The groan and wails that emanated from the brightly-lit room I was to see ahead, provided no comfort whatsoever. Soon, a grumpy looking fellow came out of it, evidently my dentist burned a hole in the poor man’s pocket, several times larger than the one he was required to fill (‘cavities’ in the dentist’s lingo). Fingers crossed, I entered the ‘operation-theater’. He turned out to be a jolly good fellow, my dentist…tut-tutting as he peeped in my mouth which was to make him richer by several thousands, took an X-ray and pondered over it for what seemed centuries to me. The family was called in to hear the doctor’s predicament –‘She has dental carries of course…but a really rare case!’ ’What is it, doc?’ I piped in, how often after all do you hear ‘rare’ being used in your context! It turned out that I had a whole set of permanent teeth missing, the good lord had given me a set of milky teeth and thought them to be enough. Apparently HE had wanted to spare me the trouble of losing and growing them all over again. Well-meaning though HE was, I was somehow forever tethered to trouble.
To cut the long story short, I underwent root canal for five of my teeth. Each of them a horror to last for a lifetime. First, the dentist uses a miniature drill to take out the rot, but not before he has given you a mighty shot of a pain killer in your oral cavity, then follows further painful poking often resulting in nicking a gum or two. Advice from a veteran? , Blissfully close your eyes TIGHT. You would not appreciate it too much if you closely observe the ruthless instruments your dentist uses. Most of them are horribly twisted, crooked and unfailingly do what they are supposed to i.e. inflict pain. Having overcome the initial hurdles, I was to brace myself for incalculable x-rays, which I unashamedly accept, are plainly embarrassing. Without a warning, your seat is thrust upwards and you are there half-sitting, half-lying with that awful sucker dangling from your mouth. You are made to hold a x-ray plate within your mouth and press it hard and wait for the magisterial beep to come. What more, a dental treatment is the most grueling of the patience tests this world of ours has to offer; my own experience of estimating the proportions of the owner of the shoes which had been dutifully left outside to observe hygiene, offers but little entertainment. The worn out magazines – Sarita, Sakhi, Manorama, Kadambini, Vinita and the likes together with topics ranging from ‘Karrai-Kasida’, preparation of ‘Dum Aaloo’ and keeping up a good rapport with ‘Sasuralwalahas’ can be fatally boring.
And the awful, awful sensation of your mouth going numb after hours of puncturing! Your tongue feels heavy, your speech is slurred, you can barely retain fluid in your mouth and it drools out from corners making a piteous picture of you.
No wonder I fled after three root canals only to come back later for two more. My benign doctor took me under his wing without complaint. My present occupation however is to check the strength of the newly put porcelain capping on my teeth, which are of the same color as my teeth and therefore indistinguishable. With five of them enabling me to consume solid food they constitute 22.7% of my total teeth to be precise, and are obviously very dear to me.
They came at a heavy price, these teeth of mine, I was brave enough to bear the root canals, fillings and jabbing but the impression casting (argh!) scared the daylights off me. A pale pink gel is poured in a cast and then is thrust into your upper or lower jaw in the most brutal manner. Believe me it took 18 years of all civility and restrain to decline the irresistible desire of kicking the brute! As if to test my patience, the process was repeated six times!
Phew! I’m glad that all’s over now. Not entirely though, as per my calculations a force of 0.098 N (assuming my tooth weighs 10gm and W=Mg) constantly acts on my upper molars and someday the dental cement may give way to the unyielding force of gravity. And that’s how I am and shall always be ‘Tethered to trouble’.
[ P.S: the author was found to carry another cavity 2 months ago and is currently waiting for another round of dental surgery.]
And then God said let there be Toothaches, root canals and dentists, and speaking thus he gave us ‘teeth’. If you are one of the few fortunate ones who have never been subjected to the wretchedness of a toothache… maybe you can never sympathize with our clan.
It all began innocently enough when one fine morning, I discovered to my horror that I could not feast on ice creams or have cold water because it triggered an intense wave of pain in either side of my jaws. Imagine the agony of this discovery on a 13 yr. old! But bravado rules in our family and so do troubling teeth (mother has 4 missing molars, father’s legendary toothaches endeared him to all the dentists of the town, Uncle hardly smiles for the fear of revealing his discoloured teeth…). So, it was decided to consult the dentist. All the telephone numbers under the name of DENTIST were dialed; friends and family were improvised with the (Herculean) task of finding the best dentist and sheepishly explained the cause (me!) of the turmoil. Finally I found myself being elbowed into a funny little waiting room, and my solicitous family (sniggering cousins included) was asked to wait there while the doctor examined my all-important teeth. The groan and wails that emanated from the brightly-lit room I was to see ahead, provided no comfort whatsoever. Soon, a grumpy looking fellow came out of it, evidently my dentist burned a hole in the poor man’s pocket, several times larger than the one he was required to fill (‘cavities’ in the dentist’s lingo). Fingers crossed, I entered the ‘operation-theater’. He turned out to be a jolly good fellow, my dentist…tut-tutting as he peeped in my mouth which was to make him richer by several thousands, took an X-ray and pondered over it for what seemed centuries to me. The family was called in to hear the doctor’s predicament –‘She has dental carries of course…but a really rare case!’ ’What is it, doc?’ I piped in, how often after all do you hear ‘rare’ being used in your context! It turned out that I had a whole set of permanent teeth missing, the good lord had given me a set of milky teeth and thought them to be enough. Apparently HE had wanted to spare me the trouble of losing and growing them all over again. Well-meaning though HE was, I was somehow forever tethered to trouble.
To cut the long story short, I underwent root canal for five of my teeth. Each of them a horror to last for a lifetime. First, the dentist uses a miniature drill to take out the rot, but not before he has given you a mighty shot of a pain killer in your oral cavity, then follows further painful poking often resulting in nicking a gum or two. Advice from a veteran? , Blissfully close your eyes TIGHT. You would not appreciate it too much if you closely observe the ruthless instruments your dentist uses. Most of them are horribly twisted, crooked and unfailingly do what they are supposed to i.e. inflict pain. Having overcome the initial hurdles, I was to brace myself for incalculable x-rays, which I unashamedly accept, are plainly embarrassing. Without a warning, your seat is thrust upwards and you are there half-sitting, half-lying with that awful sucker dangling from your mouth. You are made to hold a x-ray plate within your mouth and press it hard and wait for the magisterial beep to come. What more, a dental treatment is the most grueling of the patience tests this world of ours has to offer; my own experience of estimating the proportions of the owner of the shoes which had been dutifully left outside to observe hygiene, offers but little entertainment. The worn out magazines – Sarita, Sakhi, Manorama, Kadambini, Vinita and the likes together with topics ranging from ‘Karrai-Kasida’, preparation of ‘Dum Aaloo’ and keeping up a good rapport with ‘Sasuralwalahas’ can be fatally boring.
And the awful, awful sensation of your mouth going numb after hours of puncturing! Your tongue feels heavy, your speech is slurred, you can barely retain fluid in your mouth and it drools out from corners making a piteous picture of you.
No wonder I fled after three root canals only to come back later for two more. My benign doctor took me under his wing without complaint. My present occupation however is to check the strength of the newly put porcelain capping on my teeth, which are of the same color as my teeth and therefore indistinguishable. With five of them enabling me to consume solid food they constitute 22.7% of my total teeth to be precise, and are obviously very dear to me.
They came at a heavy price, these teeth of mine, I was brave enough to bear the root canals, fillings and jabbing but the impression casting (argh!) scared the daylights off me. A pale pink gel is poured in a cast and then is thrust into your upper or lower jaw in the most brutal manner. Believe me it took 18 years of all civility and restrain to decline the irresistible desire of kicking the brute! As if to test my patience, the process was repeated six times!
Phew! I’m glad that all’s over now. Not entirely though, as per my calculations a force of 0.098 N (assuming my tooth weighs 10gm and W=Mg) constantly acts on my upper molars and someday the dental cement may give way to the unyielding force of gravity. And that’s how I am and shall always be ‘Tethered to trouble’.
[ P.S: the author was found to carry another cavity 2 months ago and is currently waiting for another round of dental surgery.]
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