Judging from the response (or lack of it), no one is particularly jazzed by moose as the subject of a blog entry. Or perhaps moose are a popular topic and some felt I was making light of them. But such are the whims of the reading public.
But enough about moose. I just got back from my dental surgeon after having a mental implant put in my upper jaw to replace a tooth I had removed a month or so ago. The entire process took less than 15 minutes. I am struck by 1) how advanced dental science has become and 2) how nonchalant medical people are about fairly invasive procedures in our lives.
It’s not that it was particularly painful (Nitrous baby). My opinion of the pain may change as the Novocain wears off and my Nitrous buzz has subsided, however. I was just slightly troubled by how I can go into an office to have a steel post screwed into my jaw and the dental technician and surgeon are as casual about it as if they were simply cutting my hair and anxious to get it over with as quickly as possible so they can get back to a magazine article they were reading.
I suppose I should be grateful that they were confident in their skills enough to be casual about the procedure. Though the patient release they made me sign prior to the operation made it seem like I’d be lucky to come out of the procedure without losing most of my jaw and potentially the right lobe of my brain.
What really annoyed me is that they talked about the weather while they waited for the Novocain to kick in. I mean, I’m laying there, sucking in Nitrous, spiraling into my happy place and they are chatting mindlessly about they were surprised that it was raining in October. Give me a break. This is Seattle.
So, I’m bracing myself for at least 45 minutes of cutting and drilling and next thing I know, the surgeon is patting me on the shoulder and heading off to check his stock portfolio leaving the dental technician to crank down the Nitrous and dampen my high with plain old oxygen. Then she rushed me out the door so fast I could have sworn she was training for some dental rodeo they probably have in Cleveland each year.
Oh well, at least I now have that nice taste of metal in my mouth for three months until they cap it with an artificial tooth. In the meantime, I’m kind of hoping the post will pick up radio signals. It would be kind of fun to listen to White Snake on the train without having to use my iPod.