The Joys of Anesthesia

I'll never understand the appeal of a career in dentistry. I know some people are interested in it, but I simply do not see the benefits of taking a long metal pick and scraping the remains of someone's lunch off of their teeth. I wonder what their lunchtime conversations are like.

Dentist #1: "What did you bring for lunch today?"

Dentist #2: "Oh, just an apple, some parsley, and a little squeaky cheese. How about you?

Dentist #1: "Can you keep a secret?"

Dentist #2: "Of course; I took the Hippocratic oath."

Dentist #1: "I brought some corn on the cob, a carmel apple, and a high-sugar, high-sodium soda."
Dentist #2: "It looks like you've also got a little steak in there."

Dentist #1: "Yeah, had it last night. I saved the gristle."

Dentist #2: "Looks like you'll be super-sonic-ing your own teeth tonight."

Dentist #1: "That's okay. I'm getting some good practice with it."

Patient: (From one of the rooms) "Rrrggham gemdesh avm pomiia!"

Dentist #1: "Rinse then swish, Mr. Kevorkian! Rinse then swish!"

Dentist #2: "Did you hear what that Mr. Kevrikorn or whatever does for a living? I heard that he's a customer service specialist at a car dealership."

Dentist #1: "Yeah, but I also hear he's planning a career shift."


A week ago, I had my wisdom teeth removed. I now can share empathy with the thousands that have gone before me. For those of you who have not had the singularly interesting experience of being put completely to sleep with anesthesia, it is not something easily described.

The process begins with the creation of a false sense of security and comfort generated by the dentists, surgeons, nurses, and anesthesiologists that must all be present before you lose consciousness, making one feel as if one is being interrogated or condemned to the guillotine. All smiles and buddy-buddying, the nurses launch into a string of questions about your personal life, attempting to create a measure of momentary trust. Questions like, "What school did you go to?" "Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?" "Where do you work?" "What's your social security number?" "Have you ever had any DNA alterations?" "Can you prove that you've never been cloned?"

They then begin to explain the upcoming procedure in nice "I don't really want you to know what we're going to do to you once you're completely incopacitated" terms. They say that they're simply going to inject a chemical into your bloodstream that will make your body go into a preliminary shut-down of all systems that make you a coherent human being. Well, it was more like, "Okay, we're going to put you to sleep now." Then the chair begins to move of its own will, exposing you like a biology experiment to its masters.

Then the really confusing part comes. The anesthesiologist says "You're going to feel a little sting on your arm, nothing more." The sting comes and goes, and then you feel a strange, surging feeling sweep through your entire body. To me it felt like five minutes later (my mother informed me that it was really only ten seconds) when I simply slipped from Consciousland. And then I woke up. I know that the operation took a whole hour, but it really only felt like two seconds after I fell asleep to when I woke up. The first thing to regain full function was my hearing. It was a Carpenter's song, I think. It went, "Yeahhhh, yeahh, I feel all right, feel all right..." I felt as if the receptionist who chose the music was being a little sarcastic with me. Then my fingers regained. Eagar to assure myself that I wasn't crippled for life, I opened and closed my hands, just because I could. Then I opened my eyes. They refused to focus on anything, but they worked. I felt sure that someday I would recover. Hopefully in time for my High School's 25th Year Reunion, but one can only hope.

I then was practically carried by three nurses (there was only one originally, but I more than tripled her in weight and height) to our car and my mom drove me home. I collapsed in bed and slept for five hours. When I awoke that night, I was still feeling the after-effects of the sedative, so I felt absolutely wonderful. It wasn't until that wore off that I was reminded that this was really a miserable experience. But I enjoyed a few hours of that "I feel great, I look horrible, and I don't care about a single thing in the world."

So if anyone reads this who has not had this wonderful operation done on them, when you go in, thank your anesthesiologist in advance. If you have had it done, send him a thank-you note. Because it's people like him that keep people from doing a walk-by egging of the dentist's office.