An anecdote from the tooth decay experts diary

I had an appointment with a dentist today to start with a root canal treatment. After the preliminary testing to check if the nerve is alive or the tooth is dead, he asked if I was in pain. I replied in affirmative, but he wouldn’t believe me. He said no you don’t seem to understand what you feeling it is not pain, cause it is not possible that a patient won’t scream when a needle touches the nerve. I said I have had two root canals before and I didn’t scream on either instance. He hurried inside and after few long seconds of painful wonderment and holding back of tears he came back with a cylinder shaped ice and touched it to my tooth. I said there is sensation. To which he said your symptoms are not matching you don’t have pain but feel sensation with ice. Your teeth can either be dead or alive.

I should commend myself for having maintained my composure. I said I felt pain when you touched the needle, throbbing pain that made me cry but I did not. He still dismissed my claims to pain and said he will anyways give me anaesthesia before starting the root cleanup. Mild anaesthesia for me is like empty threats, never works on me. The needle touches the nerve again, I still don’t scream but motion him to stop. He now realizes that I am not faking an Oscar winning performance of resilience, he will never get that scream out of me and injects something directly into the tooth which gives instant relief.

I am not a masochist; I do not enjoy pain, physical or otherwise. But then I don’t scream, I usually don’t react that extremely. Accidents, distress, root canals, disasters by tailors and hair dressers, horror movies (these make my insides shiver, but my face manages a calm composure, I don’t know how) nothing has ever made me scream in horror. But sometimes I guess you got to scream to be taken seriously. Monday got an appointment with the doc again. Tomorrow is Sunday, it will be a good thing to spend the day practicing screaming, who knows the practice, someday, might bring me an Oscar.

It is more than three months since you have passed away. With the passing days I miss you more. There are times when I wish I should have been able to do something, to cure you, like a miracle maybe, so that you could still be around. I don’t know what is it that I want you to be around for, maybe to see me get married, play with my kids, be proud of my achievements. But you were always proud of me. I counted you among my blessings and you topped the list.

You were so unlike other fathers. You gave us those rare things that so many kids don’t get, trust, respect and freedom. We were always allowed to make our decisions, whom to befriend, what to study, how late to stay out at night. You never tried to live our lives. We never had to ask for permission to go to movies or a picnic or see a guy. Having you for a father I could never understand the restrictions other girls had to face.

You could be so naïve at times. During college when R would come to drop me home in the night, once you had asked me to ask him inside for tea. I had told you nobody is getting invited at 11.30 in the night for tea. That was your gesture, hospitality for someone who had brought your daughter back home safely. I can never forget that incident; everything was so simple and uncomplicated for you.

There is so much to do and so much to live for. Hope you will always be there with me.