Jingle Bells Root Canal

I recently had a root canal. Like the phrase "broken hip," the words "root canal" don't really mean anything. Until my mom fractured her pelvis, I never thought about what a "broken hip" actually was: The ball on top of the femur cracks or breaks off. That's a serious injury for anybody, but especially for senior citizens, many of whom are light enough to blow over in a stiff breeze. Take your calcium, dear readers, and avoid gravity whenever possible.

A root canal, on the other hand, means the endo-dentist uses a wee tiny drill to go splunking in your tooth. The human "root canal" is the tunnel carrying blood vessels and nerves, or in my case, lint. That particular molar was dead, dead, dead, but somehow still felt the urge to ring up $1500 worth of lidocaine and gauze during the annual holiday shopping frenzy. You see, the "roots" and "canals" in my tooth were fine, minding their own business, but the infection below them was seriously miffed. What caused the infection? Who knows. Perhaps it was my unconscious desire to listen to TWO AND A HALF HOURS of "lite" "holiday" "dentist music."

It was an unholy collision of lidocaine and "Little Drummer Boy," of drilling and "Jingle Bells" (five versions), and finally, listening to the dental assistant trill "Spit, please!" while she sang along to "Santa Baby." Why did it take 2-1/2 hours? As my doctor said, "Wow, this is unusual! You have not just one canal in each root--you have a total of four canals in one tooth." Four canals means four posts, and three of the most painful shots I've ever had. Two wads of cotton, and a partridge in a pear tree. They gave me some 600 mg. ibuprofen and sent me home.

I'm not sure I'll listen to "Frosty the Snowman" ever again without hearing the faint buzz of the drill or tasting the tang of silver amalgam. "Silver Bells" indeed.