Speaking Up at the Dentist

There are certain days that I know I'm going to have an experience that will be at least moderately entertaining: entertaining enough for me to twist into a story for the blog, anyway.  And I was pretty sure that today was one of those days- I mean, come on, the dentist!  To get drilled and filled!  It practically writes itself!

What I did not realize,  however, was just how "entertaining" (for lack of a better word) today's visit would be.

***

I'm sitting in the chair, listening to my music via my earbuds, and texting Nathan.

[Topical anesthetic.  Weeeeeeeiiiird.]

I carefully plug my non-numb nostril, so that I can prove to myself that I am so getting air through the other one, and there is no need for the panic that is trying to claw its way up my throat.

[A little freaky.  Guess I'm not as cool as a cucumber as I'd thought...]

The truth is that I am having mini-flashbacks to times when drugs have gone wrong for me.  Like the time they gave me epinephrine before a surgery, and my body went into a very scary over-drive, arching up and off the table, completely out of my control.  So yeah, I'm trying not to think about that.  Trying to be subjectively amazed at how quickly this topical took effect.

The doc comes in and I crack a joke that it's a good thing he's here, since the numbness is wearing off.  Except it's not really a joke, because it is wearing off.

"Oh, it'll still be numb where it counts," he says.  "I promise."

"Awesome.  I reserve the right to scream and hit you, then."

"Fair enough."

Banter, see?  Banter is good.  But just in case, I add,

"I promise not to hit you.  But I may scream."

And then he gives me the first of two shots, and you know what?  Not fucking numb.  A little numb, yeah, but I am definitely feeling the needle go in, and the subsequent flow of liquid.  I make grunty pain-noises, because MythBusters has taught me that's a good way to manage pain.

And then he gives me the second shot, in my lower jaw, and you know how before I was all, "not fucking numb"?  Well now I'm really not numb, not even a little bit, and I actually make the effort to more fully articulate the swear words I'd been grunting, and this shot just keeps going and going in spite of the nails I am digging into my palms.  But hey- better than the alternative, which is getting drilled with no drugs.

They leave me for a bit, while the numbness starts to creep into place.  Through my jaw, into my tongue- and then into my eye.  It's... not pleasant.  But hell- it's the dentist.  It's not supposed to be pleasant.

They return, and he starts working, and at first everything is fine.  I've turned my music down to very soft, because when it's loud I can't hear him telling me what to do, and I figure me obeying his directions probably trumps my desire to dampen the drill-sound.  And then the assistant (who has already proven herself to be not the sharpest crayon in the box by repeating, "It's topical," when I'd asked what sort of drug they'd used to act so quickly) says,

"So what do you think will happen with Syria?"

And the doctor replies,

"Well, we all know Obama is a closest Muslim..."

::mental record scratch::

What? I think.  Oh, ha hah, he must be setting up a joke okay no, he's still talking... aaaaany minute now, he's going to roll his eyes and no?  Still... still talking.  About... Obama supporting the Brotherhood of Muslims to ensure as many Christians die as possible.  Wow.  He said that.  This... this conversation is happening.  Across my head.  Right now.  And... I can't argue.  Or correct any of their misconceptions about the implications of Syria using chemical weapons.  How is it possible that an educated person genuinely holds beliefs like this?  And what kind of judgement calls does this guy make that he thinks it's appropriate to talk about this in a professional environment, and... holy shit, he keeps harping on about how they're killing Christians.  Did he- yes he did just imply that Christian babies being killed is a bigger deal than non-Christian babies getting killed.  Isn't it pretty much horrific no matter what kind of baby gets killed?  Also, preeeeetty sure babies aren't religious.  Wow, I'm so uncomfortable right now, and I don't mean just physically.  I can't believe how unprofessional this is.  I can't believe how angry I am, but I don't dare move, because he's got all sorts of very dangerous tools in my mouth, plus I'm drugged.  Fuck I'm glad he doesn't know I'm not a Christian.  And fuck, it pisses me off that I'm seriously in a position right now where I just had to have that thought.  How long are they going to keep talking about- oh, awesome.  Now we're on to Obama causing the next World War.  The draft?  Really?  Do these people not know anything about the military at all?  Okay, stupid question, obviously, man how long can this possibly did he just make a sexist joke?!  Did I seriously just hear him say something about "How to tell a woman not to wag her tongue so much?"  I must have misheard that.  There's no way- who am I kidding.  He totally said that, just like he totally said all that other bat-shit insane crap.  Please let this be over soon...

...at least I'll get a good blog entry out of this.

 I was shaking by the end of it.  He left, and the assistant brought me to a seated position and asked if I had any questions.

"No," I said, in the best icy-calm voice I could manage with half my face numb.  "But I do want to say that it is extremely unprofessional for you to be discussing politics over a patient like that.  The things... it's not even about my personal beliefs, it was unprofessional, and I was extremely uncomfortable."

She looked as though I'd struck her, and in a way I guess I had.  I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first patient to call them out on that bullshit.  Which only my made me angrier, because I am a very assertive person, very sure of myself, very capable of stepping up and saying, "This is wrong", and if I felt threatened in that experience, how much worse for someone whose inner core isn't so bolstered?  The thought of anyone meeker or gentler than I am being put in that situation just made me even more livid.

So I told the people at the desk, too.  And changed my follow-up appointments to a different doctor.  And then lodged a written complaint.  Because, as a wise man once said, the standard you walk past is the standard you accept.

In a way I find the whole experience funny- funny in that, "This is so surreally inappropriate, any moment now Ashton Kutcher is going to step out from behind the pillar," way.  You know, funny in the, "If I don't laugh about this I'm going to punch someone in the nuts via their throat," way.

Funny in the, "At least I got a blog entry out of this," way.