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| For the love of Baby Jesus, couldn't SOMEONE have ridden into town on a white horse and saved me from having a root canal? |
23 degrees/cloudy/calm winds
The drive to Marquette was enjoyable, well, as enjoyable as it could have been knowing I was about to get my brain pulled out through a tooth in the roof of my mouth.
With every mile driven closer to Marquette, I identified even more with the last minutes of a death row inmate being led to his final moments on earth.
The doctor's office is located in the old bank building in downtown Marquette, located right on the waterfront of Lake Superior.
My procedure was done on the top floor, right under the clock. I had a birds eye view from the chair, well, that is when I didn't have all kinds of hands and other dental stuff in my mouth.
The old bank is beautiful and has been kept authentic. The narrow staircases and original woodwork are really pieces of art and the pictures on the wall depict the building's history.
The dental assistant, Sam(antha) began draping me in all kinds of dental paraphernalia. As she did so, I began singing:
"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen....
Nobody knows, but Jeeeeeesuuuusssss...."
She laughed and giggled and even gave me a pair of super cool sunglasses to wear.
"Are these to keep my identity a secret," I asked?
Laughing she said, "Yup, the word got out and the babes are lined up out in the hallway, all trying to get in to watch you have a root canal."
I laughed, she laughed and suddenly the room grew quiet.
"So, my lovely Sam, when are you going to give me the gas?"
"Gas?"
"Yeah, you know, the stuff that will make me happy and forget that I ever had this experience."
"We don't do gas," she said.
"Drugs? Pills? Liquid? Injectable?"
"Nope, no drugs."
"Well for cryin' out loud, at least a hammer to hit me in the head and knock me out?!?"
Sam giggled, said, "Open wide, then crammed a gawd-awful piece of rubber across the width of my mouth, fastening it to a random tooth or four.
No gas, no drugs, but next came the needle, a big huge needle measuring somewhere between six and fourteen inches in length... or maybe an inch.
All talk ceased after that.
The doctor was a young, really nice guy, and honestly, nothing hurt. In fact, their main concern was that I feel no pain and I didn't, but there was one problem...
After an hour of reclining in the chair, my bladder was full to overflowing. Lake Superior, just across the street, had nothing on me.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
".... surely they're almost done. Should I tell them I need a break? WHY did I have that last mug of coffee this morning? They HAVE to be about finished."
Sam told me they needed to take another x ray and plopped a heavy lead apron on my chest and belly and most of all, on my bladder.
Misery knows no bounds.
An hour and a half had passed and concentrating on trying not to think about my full bladder, my lower jaw began to close.
"Here, said Sam, "let me put this in to help keep your jaw nice and wide," and with that, she crammed a foot wide piece of rubber between my upper and lower jaws.
I felt like a dog chewing on an oversized rubber bone. Worse was the fact that I began drooling out the opposite side of my mouth, the side where the dentist was working.
I could feel it running down my chin and onto my neck.
Oh gawd, I'm drooling like a baby and I've got to go potty. Could it get any worse?
The root was finally extracted and the hole filled after two hours. Sam discretely wiped the drool from my chin and neck while removing the rubber pieces from my mouth. The doctor was giving me instructions and when he asked if I had any questions, I replied, "No, but I really really really need to use the restroom."
"Right this way," he said pointing to the hallway.
It was then, while standing and enjoying the sweet relief of enduring a two hour root canal that I noticed the view from the bathroom window. The old ore dock and Lake Superior were in plain sight.
Sargie was kept busy during my time in the chair running back downstairs and plugging quarters into the parking meter. It was close a time or two, but we escaped downtown Marquette with nary a parking ticket in hand.
The drive home was through Iron Mountain so Sargie could pay her respects to an aunt who had recently passed away. After another quick stop, we finally arrived back on Pentoga Road.
My head was throbbing last night and I was in a foul mood. My head hurt, my upper jaw hurt, I'd stubbed a toe, and I had the headache from hell. All that being said, I think I'm safe in saying that Sargie was more than a little happy when I went to bed.
Other than plow and shovel snow, I have no idea what's on the agenda. My jaw, head, and toe, no longer hurt, so I'm going to strap on my hikers and trek to Pentoga Village and back. I'll let Sargie dictate what else we do today.
If my mood's no better today than it was yesterday, I'm certain she'll be more than happy to tell me what I can do.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
Pentoga Road
Okay, the procedure wasn't so bad. I'm just trying to milk it for all it's worth in search of some sympathetic soul. Surely there's one out there.
Friday morning's sunrise was gorgeous. I snapped the following picture on my way out the door and even with the thermometer registering twenty below zero, wished I could have paused a bit longer to enjoy the beauty that surrounds us here on Pentoga Road.
The drive to Marquette was enjoyable, well, as enjoyable as it could have been knowing I was about to get my brain pulled out through a tooth in the roof of my mouth.
With every mile driven closer to Marquette, I identified even more with the last minutes of a death row inmate being led to his final moments on earth.
The doctor's office is located in the old bank building in downtown Marquette, located right on the waterfront of Lake Superior.
My procedure was done on the top floor, right under the clock. I had a birds eye view from the chair, well, that is when I didn't have all kinds of hands and other dental stuff in my mouth.
The old bank is beautiful and has been kept authentic. The narrow staircases and original woodwork are really pieces of art and the pictures on the wall depict the building's history.
The dental assistant, Sam(antha) began draping me in all kinds of dental paraphernalia. As she did so, I began singing:
"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen....
Nobody knows, but Jeeeeeesuuuusssss...."
She laughed and giggled and even gave me a pair of super cool sunglasses to wear.
"Are these to keep my identity a secret," I asked?
Laughing she said, "Yup, the word got out and the babes are lined up out in the hallway, all trying to get in to watch you have a root canal."
I laughed, she laughed and suddenly the room grew quiet.
"So, my lovely Sam, when are you going to give me the gas?"
"Gas?"
"Yeah, you know, the stuff that will make me happy and forget that I ever had this experience."
"We don't do gas," she said.
"Drugs? Pills? Liquid? Injectable?"
"Nope, no drugs."
"Well for cryin' out loud, at least a hammer to hit me in the head and knock me out?!?"
Sam giggled, said, "Open wide, then crammed a gawd-awful piece of rubber across the width of my mouth, fastening it to a random tooth or four.
No gas, no drugs, but next came the needle, a big huge needle measuring somewhere between six and fourteen inches in length... or maybe an inch.
All talk ceased after that.
The doctor was a young, really nice guy, and honestly, nothing hurt. In fact, their main concern was that I feel no pain and I didn't, but there was one problem...
After an hour of reclining in the chair, my bladder was full to overflowing. Lake Superior, just across the street, had nothing on me.
I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
".... surely they're almost done. Should I tell them I need a break? WHY did I have that last mug of coffee this morning? They HAVE to be about finished."
Sam told me they needed to take another x ray and plopped a heavy lead apron on my chest and belly and most of all, on my bladder.
Misery knows no bounds.
An hour and a half had passed and concentrating on trying not to think about my full bladder, my lower jaw began to close.
"Here, said Sam, "let me put this in to help keep your jaw nice and wide," and with that, she crammed a foot wide piece of rubber between my upper and lower jaws.
I felt like a dog chewing on an oversized rubber bone. Worse was the fact that I began drooling out the opposite side of my mouth, the side where the dentist was working.
I could feel it running down my chin and onto my neck.
Oh gawd, I'm drooling like a baby and I've got to go potty. Could it get any worse?
The root was finally extracted and the hole filled after two hours. Sam discretely wiped the drool from my chin and neck while removing the rubber pieces from my mouth. The doctor was giving me instructions and when he asked if I had any questions, I replied, "No, but I really really really need to use the restroom."
"Right this way," he said pointing to the hallway.
It was then, while standing and enjoying the sweet relief of enduring a two hour root canal that I noticed the view from the bathroom window. The old ore dock and Lake Superior were in plain sight.
Sargie was kept busy during my time in the chair running back downstairs and plugging quarters into the parking meter. It was close a time or two, but we escaped downtown Marquette with nary a parking ticket in hand.
The drive home was through Iron Mountain so Sargie could pay her respects to an aunt who had recently passed away. After another quick stop, we finally arrived back on Pentoga Road.
My head was throbbing last night and I was in a foul mood. My head hurt, my upper jaw hurt, I'd stubbed a toe, and I had the headache from hell. All that being said, I think I'm safe in saying that Sargie was more than a little happy when I went to bed.
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| The antique vault is still intact in the bank building |
If my mood's no better today than it was yesterday, I'm certain she'll be more than happy to tell me what I can do.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
 |
| The view from the dentist's chair |
Tom,
ReplyDeleteI know now why Garry says you’re such a wimp. I had all 14 of my top teeth pulled or cut out at one setting. Talk about sore. LOL.
Geesh, Freddie... don't be so insensitive. I'm delicate!!
Delete