There are all sorts of reasons to turn to music and this week I learned “poor dental hygiene” can be included as one of them. After cracking a molar a little while ago, the filling which once was stationed there dislodged itself and the tooth’s nerve was raw and exposed as a low-budget porn actor. Like a cheap skin flick thespian, the tooth throbbed, made me wince and had to go.
So, I made an emergency appointment to see a dentist. Not my dentist. I can’t call anyone my dentist since I haven’t seen a dentist in years. My dental hygiene regimen has basically been brushing, flossing and hoping for the best. It’s the sort of approach which will one day have you sitting in a dentist’s lobby waiting your turn for some immediate relief. While sitting there, I did what I do in difficult times and tuned into the music. Every medical practice worth its salt has some sort of Pandora station or playlist running and the nice folks I visited – a husband-wife duo of dentists – had a pop mix for listeners like me, music lovers who lean into music for the good times, the bad times and the being-in-gawdawful-pain times.
This isn’t the first time I’ve focused on music for a medical procedure. Almost a decade ago (!), I was a little anxious about having my first colonoscopy. So, I listened for the music around me before and during the procedure and even asked the doctor, anesthesiologist and O.R. nurse to tell me about the music they loved. We were conversing about a favorite subject and my anxiety was allayed by our mutual love of Amy Winehouse, Bruno Mars and Michael Jackson.
It wasn’t only the music that eased my nerves, it was also the give and take with others about a subject much easier to broach than colon cancer awareness. As I wrote back then, “There’s music around us always, punctuating everything we do, and certain moments allow us to really listen to the soundtrack to our daily lives. When we actually recognize it and share it with others, it connects us to one another and yields nice, human moments.”
The dentists I chose are lovely people, but they didn’t really engage about the music wafting from speakers above us. They were more concerned with yanking a stubborn tooth from my head and, tbh, I was grateful for that. But, I did make notes on some songs I heard and a few I wish I’d heard and even had that human moment by chatting with friends and family before the extraction. Here are some of the music notes I took while having my tooth pulled:
I heard the song “Ride,” by Twenty One Pilots while I completed some intake forms and it reminded me of my wife, who is always supportive and encouraging, specifically when I’m stubborn about anything like, oh let’s say, suffering for days hoping the excruciating pain of a toothache will magically disappear. She loves music but isn’t a student of the subject, nerding out on the year a song dropped or the artist’s reasons for penning a top 10 hit. Her brain is typically filled with important things like the family budget, when the dog’s next flea treatment is due or lovingly nudging her mule of a husband towards necessary medical care.
But, for whatever reason, she does know and love Twenty One Pilots, the Ohio duo who first broke way back when I was listening to music for a colonoscopy. Hearing “Ride” while I completed a medical history was a nice touch, since she practically handed me the keys to my own “Ride” to the dentist’s office. I did not take my time, as the song goes, but sped there post haste.
Once there, I was whisked into an exam room and met Niecy, the dental assistant. Niecy had a light touch and a kind demeanor, showing consideration for my throbbing nerve during x-rays and my throbbing anxiety otherwise. Folks with older teeth in their heads might recall Niecy was the title of a 1980s album by R&B songbird Deniece Williams. A flood of songs by the soul singer seemed to apply to my condition: “Free” (because I was about to be rid of my pain); “Silly,” (silly of me to think the pain would absolve without medical intervention); “Let’s Hear it For the Boy” (because this hard-headed jackass finally is getting this taken care of); and “Too Much, Too Little, Too Late,” – a duet with Johnny Mathis – because there was no saving the tooth with a root canal and crown.
Because tooth extraction is basically a surgical procedure, I was going to have to wait out a few fellow patient examinations to have the tooth pulled. During my downtime, I traded text messages with a friend who is actually studying to become a dental hygienist. He’s worked in dentist practices before and rode a high GPA and a hell of a lot of hard work into acceptance in a local college’s dental hygiene program. Very proud of him.
It’s true, I have a close friend who is passionate about dental hygiene and I still can’t get it together. Since I one day plan to make the practice which is lucky enough to hire him my regular dentist, I’ve vowed to get these teeth in shape. I sent him a photo of my x-rays and he told me a little about what might come next. He’s hilarious and also loves music and his calling card is singing the naughtiest, dirtiest, filthiest songs he can find at the karaoke bar. One of his favorites is “Chocolate Salty Balls,” the South Park ditty sung by Chef (aka Isaac Hayes). I listened to the song through my earbuds and thought how great he’ll be at his career because he’s funny, easy going and has already put at least one worried patient at ease.
The wife dentist of this husband-wife duo began working the tooth, good ol’ #18. Eventually her husband came in to assist. Turns out, the tooth’s roots were long and relentless. Making matters worse, I was told, was my habit of grinding my teeth had all but cemented the tooth into place. I tried to be a good patient while they wrangled the culprit. No matter the challenge, Mr. and Mrs. Dentist were unfazed and calm.
Maybe that was enhanced by the music I’d selected for the experience. The exam room had a television in the ceiling, something to focus on while being prone and experiencing bad oral, like an actor in a bad porno. I chose a “Elegant Jazz Ambience,” a smooth jazz mix, partly because the visual for the video was a dream scene that tried hard against the buzzing and cracking noises of tooth extraction to whisk me away to a Fiji bungalow.
I didn’t recognize any of the songs and could hardly concentrate on them anyhow, but the genre did put David Benoit into my head. The veteran jazz pianist with nimble fingers (and nice teeth) is a favorite light jazz artist and the song “Freedom at Midnight” came to mind. I was sure I was going to soon be free of my toothache, but it might not be ’til midnight, I reasoned. The tune is buoyant and gave me the oomph I needed to show some resilience and work with the doctors (“Open wider, please,” “Tilt your head towards me, thanks,”) who expertly removed the tooth after an hour’s work.
As I mentioned in that long ago colonoscopy story, this is a bit of a PSA for taking care of yourself, reader. Go get your regular checkups and don’t let your health issues become “Too Much, Too Little, Too Late.” If you need to, curate a playlist of your own tunes that’ll encourage you to take that “Ride” to the doctor’s office.
