Nitrous oxide, Kenny G and a shot of Novacaine

The soothing tones of Kenny G's saxophone helped lull me into a mild state of stupor this morning, helped along by the steady stream of nitrous oxide being pumped into my lungs. Unfortunately it wasn't loud enough to drown out the miniature construction crew drilling the mercury out of my teeth, but I was pretty numbed up by then thanks to an extra shot of Novacaine. 

I think laughing gas can bring great insight if administered properly. You're conscious enough to know what's going on and react to the dentist's directions, but you're relaxed enough to let your mind wander where it will. Mine took a nice holiday, save the one moment when the drill dipped too close to a nerve. I gave the international sign for "aaoaooooooooowwww!!" (a frantic wave) because, of course, my mouth was full of silverware and could only register "gaaaagluggggergg," which can also be mistaken for  "I'm rather enjoying the sensation of flying." My brain, free but still alert, started screaming: "You're perilously close to a nerve! Perilously close! Perilously close!" Then it stepped back and realized what it was screaming. Who else but me would exclaim of "peril" instead of opting for a succinct #&!@? Note to self: Try not to laugh when you've been gagged with a Latex dropcloth and a man is holding a drill to your molar.

I can only hope Bella's experience was as enlightening as mine. She is having a sleepover with the vet tonight after being spayed, having an umbilical hernia repaired and having two puppy teeth pulled. I was going to post pictures, but then I thought she might be embarrassed to have her imperfections displayed for the whole world to see. I couldn't have that, especially when I'm already feeling guilty for denying her the experience of motherhood. But, as my Chicago friend says, "Her children would have been taken away from her anyway." Better to spare her, I suppose.

I kinda miss the dentist's spit basin

Ouch! A trip to the dentist really hurts the pocketbook. I'm not sure if it's my high-tech dentist with all his gizmos, or if every dentist is charging this much. Let's just say my upgrade is the equivalent of a couple of car payments on my 2008 Altima. And that's after insurance. And all to get rid of my 1980s mouth bling. That's right -- I won't be flashing those mercury fillings anymore.

Mercury fillings (technically called amalgam fillings) have been the subject of much debate because of the toxicity of mercury. However, the American Dental Association says mercury's toxicity is negated by the other minerals it is combined with: silver, tin, copper and possibly other metallic elements. My concern is not whether my flashy fillings are slowly poisoning me. What convinced me to have them replaced was when my dentist told me the life of a mercury filling is only supposed to be about 10 years. Mine are at least twice that old.

I brushed him off, but then he showed me pictures. Today's techno-dentistry uses a penlight-sized camera to take pictures of my teeth. The images are projected onto a computer monitor that swings around over my chair. Now I can see exactly what my dentist sees. Pretty cool. So I got my first look at those metal fillings I've had since I was a kid. You can see that they've cracked over time and even contracted. That is allowing seepage around the corners, which is bad news. (Those aren't pictures of my teeth, by the way. They're part of a press kit from the American Dental Association.)

So I gave it a shot. I had two replaced with composite fillings in December, and I can tell a huge difference. The teeth with the old mercury fillings are highly sensitive to cold, but I have no feeling at all from the composite fillings. That's proof enough for me. 

Another cool thing about my dentist is that he offers sedation dentistry. That means if you're terrified of dentists, you get to take a pill that induces short-term amnesia so you don't remember the visit. That's a little too freaky for me. Instead, I take the gas and the portable CD player with my choice of music. Dentistry has come a long, long way from the days of the spit basin.