I have had problems with my teeth since young. Actually one of the dentists I saw in the U.S. flat out told me that it is largely hereditary, that I would have developed problems with my teeth sooner or later, that even if I were born and grew up here, the land of BEST DENTAL CARE IN THE WORLD, I would have had bad teeth. Long story short, I have had numerous root canals done back home when I was fairly young. I am pretty sure they were all painful since dentists back then seemed to not believe in anesthesia, and the patients assumed that pain was just part of the deal.

The only thing I recall now is that once the pain was so excruciating that my entire body tensed up, my hands clenched tightly into fists , and it took more than an hour for my hands to relax to uncurl themselves. When it happened, the dentist simply told my mother that I was too hyper-sensitive and she could seat me in one of the chairs in the waiting room until I could function normally again.

I remember feeling guilty about not being able to sustain the pain.

I only started remembering all these yesterday when I went through my first root canal here in the U.S.

I also recalled the first time I saw an American dentist for a, relatively, trivial tooth decay. When I winced because of a slight discomfort, she immediately stopped whatever she was doing, “Did it hurt? I am so sorry. Do you want a shot?”

I was startled by her genuine concern over a pain so minor that I laughed. I wanted to tell her how happy I was but I did not for fear that she’d think I had gone mad.

 

This time the pain started last Friday evening. It was not really pain per se, but more like a dull sore that made my skull chamber hum. All day and all night. I finally was able to see the dentist this Monday and was given the bad news that a root canal was necessary.

“Could I have the laughing gas?”

“Of course you could!”

Laughing gas + Novocain. I was set. No, I did not dream Britney Spears or even John Stamos. But, I did see colors, and patterns. Generally enjoying myself in such a legally drugged up state. All of a sudden, I saw bursting colors, and the straight lines in the patterns curving at the end and breaking into flowers with brilliant colors.

At first I could not pin point the sensation. Neither what nor where. The colors were ricocheting all over inside my head. Then gradually I felt it. It was emitting out of the spot where the doctor was sawing with an endo file. Gradually I realized that sensation that I was feeling? That sensation was PAIN.

I should say something, I thought.

I should at least make the noise, OUCH.

But I did not care. I could still see the colors bursting while the end of the straight lines curving upwards into a floral shape.

Maybe pain is normal. I thought. Maybe for a root canal, I am supposed to feel pain, I thought.

Bursting. Pain. Boom. Colors.

I could not make myself care.

 

Unfortunately I was not allowed to walk around hooked up to the laughing gas. As soon as the mask was removed, the pain became more and more acute. “Was I supposed to feel the pain?” I asked the dentist.

“Oh my goodness. Of course not!” she said apologetically, “Some people are hyper sensitive to these kinds of pain. You must be one of them. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have given you another shot. Do you want a shot now?”

I had missed the window of making this root canal a pain-free experience. Wouldn’t have made any difference then, I am guessing. The persistent pain seems to be what comes afterwards. For the rest of Monday and today, I live in constant awareness of the shape of my skull.

But no colors. No bursting flowers. Just blinding white behind my eyes when I squeeze them shut.