Daunting Endodontics!

Most of us hominids have 32 teeth in all. Well, let’s just say we have this instrument called tooth with which most of the mundane tasks such as eating, chewing, attacking (debatable) et all are done. So far this instrument is working fine in your body, you don’t even realize it exists, rather you don’t care it exists. The fun starts when the same tooth makes your life toothless, almost literally. As I realized this hard way, one of my ‘taken for granted’ teeth shifted its natural position and developed a cavity – this is similar to earth plates shifting deep below the ground leading to catastrophic Tsunami. The Tsunami which engulfed my mouth due to this cavity is called ‘Root Canal Treatment’ in medical lingo. I must swear – Dental fraternity was not in good mood when they formulated this treatment for us lesser mortals. Read on to find out why I made this teething statement about them…

“You have a void between your 2nd and 3rd molar” – these were the exact words of my dentist. I put together all my knowledge about English language to process this statement but to no avail. I asked back, trying to sound as smart as possible – “So doc, what would you recommend for me?” (I ain’t bad in pretending – somewhere I read that personality is the art of getting admired for qualities you don’t posses). The doc looked back at me and uttered very casually – “we would go for root canal treatment, as removal of your molars should be the last option”. These words sounded as if I have a last few days left to my life! My medically challenged brain once again started processing the term ‘Root Canal Treatment’ though I did hear a lot about it from many others. Before I could even ask my next question to the doctor, he was already ready with the fees he would charge me for this treatment. My jaws almost dropped after hearing the astronomical amount – 6000 bucks! I realized this is the precise reason that the Medical profession is never seen affected by recession. The thing with doctors is you can’t bargain with them as you would normally do in similar situations – ‘Hey doc, can you give me some discount as I am your repeat customer’ or ‘Doc, this is festival time man, give me some discount’. Somehow this culture of bargaining has not been applied to the medical fraternity, I strongly feel otherwise. I was further told that there will be 3 sessions to complete the treatment. I murmured to myself – so basically they would want you to endure the torture slow and steady – like the ‘Halal’ cut. 

I came back home with a heavy heart – took next 3 weeks to bring up all the courage to get started with the treatment. In my research on this topic during this time, I realized that this medical procedure (root canal) is invasive in nature (meaning they would invade your body in flesh and blood) and is a part of larger dental specialty called ‘Endodontics’ – Daunting Endodontics!

The D day arrived – my first session to face the Tsunami. I was told by the receptionist that the ordeal (she said process, I heard ordeal) would take about 30 minutes. After about 15 minutes of long wait, I was called in. As soon as I entered the dental room, all my fear came true or atleast, seemed to come true. Let me try to describe here what I saw and I leave it to the reader’s discretion to judge on my fear. That room had dim lighting, all the windows were covered with thick curtains through which no light could pass (yes, like a black hole), the shape and size of the room was just about enough to fit in one big sized elephant, in short - it was a dungeon. On three corners of the room stood 3 attendants, each one wearing a white mask and holding some kind of sharp instruments in their hands. The doctor himself was sitting in the middle of the room, face covered with white mask, his breathing sounding quite heavy and both his hands clutching a bunch of even sharper instruments. The 3 attendants were standing still in their respective positions (as if ready to attack the prey anytime), the doctor just signaled me to lie down on the special long sized chair (it looked more like an electric chair). I thought to myself – is this some kind of a trap? Am I being murdered? Why did they not check my BP as usually practiced my other docs? I haven’t even prepared my final will. Damn it. As I was checking these thoughts out, came a shrilling sound – yes, a high speed sharp edged drilling machine had started approaching my mouth. Fortunately the doctor finally spoke before the drilling machine could come any closer – ‘Just relax, this will have some sensitivity kind of pain initially. Please raise your hand if you feel too much of it’. What? Raise your hand! – is this some kind of game where you raise your hand upon someone’s elimination. I remember playing some such game in my school days. What if I get delayed in raising my hand by a few seconds or what if I raise my hand but the doc thinks I  am saying hi to him!  Nevertheless, the doc simply pulled the 2 ends of my ill-fated mouth with his hands and started injecting anesthetic liquid into the cavity (that injection needle was very awkwardly shaped, resembled an L shaped dagger to put it mildly). He sat back on his chair instructing me to let him know when I start feeling numbness in my mouth. By this time, I was quite convinced that I am being ‘eliminated’ in a cleverly orchestrated dental dissection. How else do you explain 4 masked people with sharp weapons in their hands holding you lying down in an extremely vulnerable position and waiting for you to pass out? As the local anesthesia kicked in, I felt numbness in my mind first and then in my mouth. The drill started – literally. First came in the drilling machine, then the pointed knife followed by some more injection of anesthesia and then some more sharper odd looking instruments – all of them going deep inside my mouth with no guarantee that they would come out ever. I was feeling occasional pain, clutched my fists, held on to myself, held on to my life and after 40 grueling minutes, was told to sit-up with my mouth still having no sensation. What I felt was that the built up psychology behind this whole thing psyches you up more than anything else. Probably I thought if my eyes were covered up too, I wouldn’t have felt as much pain since I wouldn’t know what’s going inside my agonized mouth.

I had the remaining 2 sessions done without as much pain as the 1st one. Root canal treatment should be introduced in Army commando training to test the Jawan’s physical and psychological endurance or it can be given out as a punishment for serious criminal offences. Such is the impact of surviving this treatment. I survived the trauma, I am recuperating, I promise I will write my next post with a better mind frame.