This morning was the first of my four bone grafts. Though it was a deeply unpleasant experience, I thought it would hurt a lot more than it did. I didn't cry or scream once, which is pretty good for me. Of course the novocaine hasn't worn off yet.
Going to a healthcare professional who knows what he's doing makes all the difference in the world. I will never go back to NYU Dental. It's one thing to hire a student to take your head shots or do your taxes—it's quite another to let him go wild with sharp instruments inside your mouth. Plus, in sharp contrast to the scuzzy mess that is the NYU clinic, this office was clean and free of other people's bloody bits. This guy shot me so full of numbing agents and nerve blockers that I couldn't feel a thing except a lot of pressure and the occasional sharp pain. The sounds are always the worst part of any dental visit anyway; the whirring, grinding and scraping noises that always chill me to the bone. They were there in full effect. Spending an hour and a half with two people's hands in your mouth, one of them grinding away at the roots of your teeth is not a fun way to kick off the week, but it's over. For a couple months at least.