So today is my birthday day and I turn 33. It’s November twenty two and I’m thirty three so that would make it, 11-22-33. Yay. Don’t misread to mean I was born in 1933, though.

What’s in store for today? I have work for the whole day (it’s Sunday, normal work day here in the UAE) and I have ta-da-daaa…a dentist appointment as follow up for last week fabulous root canal.

My wish for my birthday aside from the usual world peace, no nukes in Iran, a fair election in every country and the end of recession? No more root canals from now on. Throw in a perfect health for me and my family and I’m happy.

Toothaches are powerful. It can destroy your mood, break the routine of your day and with the current toothache that I had this week, to lightly put it, it just sucks up all the happiness out of a person.

I’ve had a root canal done in Japan on a suspicious tooth that was screaming shi*t last year. The procedure had been done in a hurry because I did not have much time. Normally it would take about five visits but the doctor did it in three. I thought I had it all figured out. A year later (now) the suspicious tooth is screaming mad again. The pain would come and go at the command of an Advil. I let it be because I don’t fancy going to the dentist. Who does anyway?

I went to the dentist because the pain had been too much that it almost stopped everything I’m doing, including work and blogging. Which is not cool. When even the blogging stops, that means something is wrong in my world. An x-ray was taken but since the suspicious tooth is dead, having no nerve anymore because of the root canal, the doctor (and me) was surprised why I’m feeling the shitty sensation. A close up x-ray revealed that I have a botched root canal. WTF. Is there ever a term? A “root canal” in itself is hell and a botched one? Pardon me but #$%&@*%@#.

The x-ray looks like the filling called gutta percha (see illustration is you’re brave) didn’t reach the end of the canal. With the hollow part at the end, bacteria might have entered creating infection. “Might”. She was not sure so I went to another dentist in Dubai Healthcare City – a community where specialists clinics are located. The new clinic had very up to date, advanced tools and equipment. Impressive! The doctor took a whole mouth x-ray, closeup of the suspicious teeth, photos of each tooth, checked for pockets and discussed with me the treatment proposal for one whole hour. I already sensed with the time she spent on me and my teeth, this must be expensive.

I was billed $150 that didn’t even include the treatment of the botched root canal, just the x-rays and the consultation, assessment. It was expensive but at least I now know that my first dentist was right after all although I didn’t trust her. I took the treatment plan with prices and got out.

Treatment plan: Root canal to be redone, fill the tooth again, crown it, clean everything = 6,000 dhs (US$1,700).

The amount should be able to buy me lots of shoes and an iPhone. Tooth extraction would be the cheaper option but I figured I wouldn’t look nice with a posh shoes and an iPhone if I am toothless. (The tooth is strategically located on the side and can be seen when I smile). But of course, I couldn’t go pay all that $$$ for one tooth!

Right now I am taking a medication to ease whatever inflammation caused by some badass anything somewhere in my that suspicious teeth. Once I finish the meds, I decide whether to go on take Pristine’s college trust fund to be able to pay for one freaking teeth. Most likely? I’ll go to the hardware store, buy some pliers and take all my tooth out. No more future dentist visits! *if only*

I went to the dentist yesterday after a severe toothache the previous night which was after one of my molars cracked – to which Pristine screamed there must be earthquake inside my mouth for my teeth to crack.

She has a point and even if she doesn’t I didn’t have the strength to dispell her claim.

Anyway, I hate going to the dentist and I am sure many can relate. I also hate the fact that I only come to the dentist whenever I have a problem, which of course many of you and good boys and girls know, is not good. That only means I care less about my teeth because if I did, I could have gone twice a year for cleaning and checkup (or carry a pocket toothbrush in my back pocket like my husband does – story for another day). But I just dont and I just don’t learn a lesson.

I have lost 4 molars at the young age of 20, causing my teeth to boogie, party and move like tectonic plates – resulting in me looking like Madonna when she smiles. I meant the gaps in Madonna’s front teeth, of course – which is only lovely if I had Madonna’s riches so I can fix the gap whenever I want to. Madonna doesn’t like to fix her gap because it’s her trademark and now fast becoming mine I am afraid she’ll sue me for stealing her look. Sheesh, where am I going.

“Hmmm, I’m afraid we’d have to do a root canal.”

The kind lady dentist looked at me with piercing eyes. Those words she just said sounded to me exactly like, “we need to remove your uterus by force or scrape one part of your brain”. If there are two words that go together that I fear and hate, it would be root and canal.

What I don’t like about going to the dentist? The checking up part where they have to stick a thin piece of metal to check the depth of the cavity drives me dizzy – I mean, crazy. Excuse me while I cringe, shudder and wipe my tears.

The dentist lodged the wire on my molar and touched THE nerve. The nerve that didn’t want to be touched! Simultaenously, I let out a scream. My mouth was already open so it really didn’t require much effort.

“Looks like we can save this teeth, Grace. The cavities didn’t reach the nerves yet though the long wire did.”

I can’t even understand why she was even smiling while I was wiping my tears and putting on my Labello lip cream (hey, constant exposure to dental clinic air makes my lips dry).

She continued, “So, you’re lucky! No root canal for now!”

That moment, I swear I’ve seen angels singing hallelujiah. I began to sit back and relax so to speak.

…until she turned her back, got something and faced me with a big injection.

“I’ll just have to inject you so you wouldn’t feel any pain while I clean that tooth and fill it up.”

Yeah right. I wouldn’t feel a thing though in other words, she only meant the torture has just began.

You know what? Sometimes, I feel like giving birth is so much easier than being treated on that dentist chair. Ok, my 40 hours of labor wasn’t a joke (without any epidural) but at least, I got something cute at the end of it.

But being in that dentist chair? One has to survive the suspense of the doctor ultimately hitting THE nerve, the sweaty palms, the mouth vacuum, the drilling sound and the drilling itself, the smell of plastic filling during light cure, the thought of needles poking and mutilating my gums. And in the end? There’s nothing cute – you are faced with the thriller of the anesthesia wearing out and the real world pain to set in and ruin your day or days and make you miss your favorite food…and that you have to refrain from talking if you don’t want the people around to suspect you’re on drugs. Thank God I have a blog.

It’s amazing how many random things come to mind when one sits on the dentist’s chair that I am so sure at one point or another, J.K. Rowling must have thought, while she’s being root-canaled, of a book called Harry Potter and the Deathly Drill or something.

I promise to take care of my teeth more. If cats can do it, so can I and you can, too!