Well, it's been forever since I last blogged. The motivation simply has not been there. Having said that, today I realized that motivation, at least for me, is largely related to setting aside EMOTIONAL TIME to blog. It's much like running, or for that matter, washing the car, or (even more esoterically), responding conscientiously to daily emails.
Well, today I discovered new internal motivation. I recently went for my biannual teeth cleaning ordeal. I dislike this activitiy, not because my hygienist is not cute enough, but because I'm a cheapskate. She always says: " Paul, it's time for x-ays." And I always say, (without dental insurance since my retirement), "... that it can wait yet another six months." Well, being such a backslider finally caught up with me. A full array of x-rays revealed not one but two cavities -- and I am not even prone to this malady. In fact, my father lived his entire life without ever having a single one. I thought I was invulnerable, like Superman (at least in the dental department).
So the reality gradually set in. I was scheduled for being drilled to death today. Being the wimp that I am, I let my mind run away with itself until I achieved panic stage. My appointment with fate was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. this afternoon.
I had been pre-warned. I had a 50% chance of losing a twelve year molar -- and the added expense of an extraction if drilling didn't resolve the issue. That was depressing enough, but, as my wife is quick to point out, I tend to perseverate on such matters. So this morning at 6:00 a.m. I was up pacing and fretting. Thank God I had a golf date.
Regardless, 2:00 p.m. rolled around much quicker than expected. When I left the house at 1:45 p.m., I was resigned to confronting my destiny.
My dentist is a casual, yet very professional female from one of my alma maters. I like her. She is humorous, yet thoroughly kind and gentle. Nonetheless, she IS a dentist! This psychological profile always gives me the shivers. She promised a no-pain experience, but only a 50-50 chance of saving the tooth, and who was I to question such a good-natured professional...
At the appointed hour I settled into the dental chair -- for the first time in memory -- into the upside- down inverted position (the cavity was in my upper left jaw). The actual drilling lasted only about five minutes, but it ascended into my gum line -- a matter of some concern for her. Personally, I was thrilled that the only feeling I experienced was coldness as the "vibrancy" (as she described it) unfolded. I told her what I was feeling when she asked, and she said that that was a good thing. It meant that the tooth was alive and kicking, and my chances for tooth survival were immediately enhanced.
The drilling lasted only about five minutes, even though it was very deep and adjacent to the nerve. The dental assistant constantly sucked up my salivary juices, and all was fine.
Then the drilling stopped and filling the deep hole began. Then a rubber tooth block was inserted while the dentist began the arduous procedure of reshaping my former molar.
Did anyone of you watch "Zero Dark Thirty"? That movie really helped me understand what water-boarding is all about.
There I was in the inverted, super-inverted positon, sucking down saliva faster than my filling was being packed. I consciously stifled the "gag" reflex. The dentist, of course, noticed my dilemma and sympathetically cut me a break. Yet, at the same time my new filling was "setting up" it interferred with her procedure. I let my tensing body relax a bit, and it helped slightly. Regardless, I was on the brink of gagging for several minutes while the dentist completed her procedure. This lasted much longer than the five minutes of drilling. I would estimate that this dental version of "water-boarding" continued for about 20 minutes.
My gag reflex made me feel like a prisoner of war; the enemy could have extracted any information it desired during this prolonged agony. The dentist, in her necessary desire to achieve her objective, let it ride. I decided then and there that there is a fine line between suffering and achieving success.
Of course, the very fact that I am now writing about my ordeal, means that I survived. I still think I'm a hero and not a wimp, even though the dentist knows the truth.
Tonight, I sit here writing about an afternoon in the dental chair. The drilling did not hurt. But filling the drilled out cavity was a dimension that I had not previously entertained. Now I have something new to worry about. Remember that I have two cavities. On August 27th, I get to undergo the entire process all over again.
In the meantime, Dick Cheney remains for me the "Dark Side" personified. It seems strange that a visit to the dentist can so quickly jar such sensibilities. That said, if you asked my wife, she'd remind me to stay focused on the present.
Carry on,
Paul in Potsdam
