I imagine people who never had to wear braces have no clue of the suffering involved. I still cringe at the smell of those powdery rubber gloves or the sight of a dental chair. My particular masticatory situation was especially complicated. I had a tooth that was compacted, or stuck up in the roof of my mouth. It was driven there by another meaner tooth I guess. Anyway, the orthodontist said we had to get it out of there. This meant painful surgury (read: novacaine needle in the gums). Of course, to my dismay, once they had exposed the tooth and attached a bracket to it, it promtly fell off and the tooth hid again. Another surgery. It fell off. A third surgury. By this time the surgeon was making little jokes, like, "Well, that little guy just doesn't want to stay on there, does he?" Hardy-freaking-har, doc. Why don't you give me that 4 inch needle and YOU lay down in this chair?
Well, after the third bracket fell off, it was decided that the orthodontist should attach the bracket, and not the surgeon. The day of that procedure is seared into my memory and flesh. The bracket is glued on, so ample time for the glue to dry must be given. We all know that if we want something to dry out, we don't put it in our mouths. However, orthodontists have ways of dealing with that. First, they prop open your mouth as wide as it will possibly go with a little device I like to call "The Lip Splitter." I've also heard it called "The Gum Mangler" or "The Jaw Ripper." For some reason that has yet to occur to me, they then stuff your cheeks full of foam pellets and cotton balls. This is possibly to soak up the gallons of drool that collects during the next few hours, but I believe it is mainly to make you look incredibly stupid in front of all the cute female dental assistants. Besides, they don't so much soak up the drool as push it out your mouth in a steady stream down your neck where it creates a huge wet spot on your collar. So there I am, mouth gaping, staring at a pine tree out the window. A cute assistant spots my soaked collar. "Oh, let me just get that..." She dabs the drool trickle with a cloth. To ease the intense burn of humiliation, I try to say thank you, but it comes out like gurgling German accompanied by flecks of spittle and a foam pellet. She gives me a look of pity and walks away. I have never known such crushing embarrassment. It's like they try to break your will.
The actual application of the bracket took about 10 seconds. The orthodontist snapped off his powdery gloves and called a cute assisstant over. "Alright, now we'll just let the glue dry." I gurgled a sigh of relief... but way too soon. For the next fifteen minutes, the cute assisstant held a blow dryer on the tooth. I'm sure it dried the glue but it also dried the roof of my mouth out. Then it burned... my gosh, the burning! It was torture! After a few minutes, the drier felt like a blow torch. I was trying to be cool in front of the cute assisstant, who was casually chatting with another assistant, but my eyes watered, my hands turned white from squeezing the armrests, and beads of sweat gathered on my forehead.
After it was finally over, I went home and collapsed into bed, my mouth still burning. I had been up extremely late the night before and was approaching exhaustion. I remember having the most vivid dream... it was one of those surreal, middle of the day dreams: I was playing with a huge bucket of little green army men, and was eating them. For some reason this was a good idea to me in my dream. I guess I wasn't so much eating them as chewing on them. As I chewed, suddenly, one of the little stinkers slipped into my throat. I gagged, choked, and coughed, but it was quickly sliding down. I freaked out and rammed my fingers in my mouth as far as I could and grabbed the army man by his little bayonet. I was gagging and my throat contractions pulled the army man further down, but I squeezed as hard as I could and kept him from being swallowed. I was terrified of swallowing the army man, but I was kind of stuck. I couldn't get him out, but I couldn't let go either. At this point I began to wake up. As I slowly emerged from my sleep, I realized my hand was in my mouth. In a stupor, I also realized I was holding something at the back of my throat. I sat up and pulled my drool soaked fingers out, only to reveal what they were holding: the bracket.