I had another root canal procedure today. It was on the same tooth as before. It takes a few goes to complete the procedure. The student dentist working on me was a lovely girl, but prone to asking me questions I couldn't easily answer given the circumstances. Her supervisor was patronising and called me 'darling'. He wasn't in my good books after he used this term repeatedly. The student had just explained the procedure to me. I knew it well. This was the same description given to me last time.
The supervisor came in and asked if she'd drawn a diagram to help me grasp the concept. She said no, but that I knew what was going on. He then sat down and proceeded to draw a little picture, explaining "now, this is your tooth... and this is your root canal... this is your gum bed..." After he finished he looked at me and asked "is it clearer now?" Well, he was tempting fate. "To be honest, I understood perfectly before."
The procedure took hours. Upon hours. Upon hours. I may be a little bitter towards the supervisor because he was overseeing five other operations, and so much hinged upon him being able to see how the student was going to guide what was to happen next. This means that at least an hour and forty minutes of my appointment was spent with my mouth open, held by this rubber dam, just waiting until he was free.
I really am not fond of the noise dental drills make, but compared with the blinding pain I was receiving before this whole thing started, I'll take the drills any day. I'm glad it's over with until May, though. Which reminds me, I have to talk to my supervisor in order to ask for the time for my appointment off.
Please don't ask me questions when my mouth is full of clamp, fastener and rubber.
Only five people in the world have the right to call me 'darling'. You are not one of them, Mr. Dentist Man.
My jaw hurts.