David Knopf: Trip to dentist a laughing matter

I broke tradition this time, trading my tough-guy-at-the-dentist persona for some laughing gas.

There’s irony there since the dentist I use is extremely considerate about not causing pain.

I should mention my dentist has never scored a direct hit on one of my nerves, but I picture it happening and sending me skyward like a fighter pilot who’s hit auto-eject.

So I anticipate the possibility of such a jolt and start tensing up a week before an exam. When appointment day arrives, I hold onto the chair with such force I lose circulation from the knees up and nearly pass out.

Last week, I was booked for a two-hour appointment that was to include everything from a possible root canal to filling two cavities and prepping one tooth for a crown. I figured why not make it three hours and rotate my tires?

You can understand why I was driven to take the step of asking for nitrous oxide — the inhaled drug better known as laughing gas. As generations of Knopfs have said, if it makes you laugh it’s better than having Cossacks drive you from the village with pitchforks.

When last week’s appointment started, I asked the dentist to dial down the gas. Instead of reducing my tension about drilling, I began feeling anxious about losing control and having my brain waft skyward.

The adjustment worked fine, and my dentist got down to work and told me how great I was doing at regular 15-second intervals.

“You’re doing great!” he’d say. In dental terms it means I was feeling neither “sensitivity” nor “discomfort.”

In a dentist’s office, you could get hit by a harpoon and they’d still refer to it as “discomfort.” That would merely prompt further deadening of the area with those little pin pricks that make your lower lip feel like a life preserver.

Unfortunately, one of the teeth that needed attention was so decayed there wasn’t enough left for a crown to hold onto.

Imagine a king with a very small head whose crown slides down over his ears and nose and you’ve got the picture.

The tooth would have to be “extracted” — dentist lingo for yanked out with a vise grip — by a dental surgeon. The surgeon I was referred to had both dental and medical degrees, which would qualify him to deal with a medical emergency and must’ve made his mother very proud.

I’m on blood thinner, so bleeding could become an issue should the vise grip or dental-issue pneumatic drill slip and became imbedded in my thigh.

The twin degrees also meant the surgeon had more than a decade of professional training, enough time to assemble college loans greater than the annual dry cleaning bill for the entire Saudi royal family.

With all the sand storms, you have no idea how expensive it is to clean one of those robes.

I was an old hand at tooth deadening and laughing gas, so the extraction went smoothly. There was no pain, just the expansion of my growing dental vocabulary.

For example, “sensitivity” and “discomfort” gave way to “some pressure,” which must be dental-surgeon jargon for putting pliers on a tooth and yanking it out by the roots.

I didn’t have all the details, but the tooth had already had a root canal, which meant it looked a bit like Venice minus the gondolas and checkered tablecloths.

The surgeon informed me that teeth with root canals often break apart when “some pressure” is applied via your standard mechanic’s-grade Craftsman pliers.

The initial attempt did just that, so I was prepared — though not for what the dentist said when the tooth broke.

“Yowser!” he said, “I was hoping for the whole shebang!”

I don’t know if it was the laughing gas or me, but the language reminded me of a Batman cartoon. I wouldn’t have been surprised had he said, “BAM!” “POW!” or “SHAZAM!”

After the rest of the tooth was out, the surgeon told me we’d only need one simple, dissolvable suture to wrap things up.

A “suture” is kinder-gentler dental talk for “stitch.”

I was glad to have it stitched since I was a little worried that blood might gush out of my mouth and paint a crimson mural on the ceiling.

I guess I’d be fine with that if it made a mural. They’re very popular in Venice.

Feel free to tell me your dental story at davidknopf48@gmail.com.

This story was originally published January 26, 2016 at 10:08 AM with the headline "David Knopf: Trip to dentist a laughing matter."