Toothache: Is it the worst pain in the world, even worse than childbirth?

 There is of course a short answer to this question but let me answer it in my own roundabout way.

I'm male, in my 50's and, even in these days of transgender complexities, have never given birth. I consider myself lucky that I haven't even witnessed childbirth - unless one includes the birth of baby guppies in my aquarium when I was a kid that is. The brightly coloured tropical fish, about the size of your pinky finger, managed about 10 'fishlets' swimmingly well (literally) in just a few minutes. It all looked pretty easy to me. I was more perturbed to see another guppy (the father maybe) eat one of the babies in a single gulp before it had even stretched out. I have, however, witnessed toothache, and it's awfully unpleasant.

    I'm of the generation before diet fizzy drinks. I'm of the generation where you could buy 'sweet tobacco' (fine strips of coconut dipped in brown sugar), candy cigarettes, and sherbert lemons scooped from large glass jars 1/4lb at a time. Because I was lazy at cleaning my teeth, and because also my dentist was scared I was going to bite his finger (justified), rot sometimes set in. My old-looking dentist, Dr Christhopher Lee (yes that really was his name) would rather send me to sleep and pull out the offending tooth rather than fill it. His aggressive dentistry didn't matter then because we're talking milk teeth here and they were going to fall out anyway.

    Years rolled on. I grew up. My teeth became my responsibility, and what did I do? I got myself a piercing, a metal rod straight through my tongue.

    Amongst my peers, overnight, I became 'cool'. I was considered brave and on several occasions was even asked by girls to kiss them just to see what it felt like.

    'Did it hurt? They asked, looking on at me in awe.

    'No, of course it didn't', I lied.

    I dined out on my new celebrity status and was invited to parties just to show it off. I even bought a fluoro-latex tip, it glowed in the dark, under UV light. How cool is that?

    What I didn't tell people, was, every once in a while, I managed to bite down on it by mistake. Now, as hard as tooth enamel is, it's nowhere near as hard as surgical steel. The unforgiving metal bar caused my molars (those are the big teeth at the back) to chip and crack. All very unpleasant. It happened too many times. In the end, and far way late, I decided to lose my coolness and remove the wrecking lump of metal from my mouth. Relief.

    I'm older, a little bit wiser too, but now the stupidity of my youth is making me pay. A particular tooth, chipped of course, recently became sensitive. It could only get worse.

    Where I live, Brighton, National Health dentists are about as common as honest politicians. Thus I hadn't managed to see one in more than a year. Now imagine my pleasant surprise receiving a call telling me there was a new dentist in town. I immediately booked an appointment for a week's time.

    Dentists. After first laying flat in his electric chair, with some trepidation, I opened my mouth for the masked man to see inside. It was of great relief that he didn't step back in shock. Apparently my teeth weren't 'that bad', but one tooth, the one which had become sensitive, 'needed a crown'. With barely a blink of hesitation, I agreed to get one fitted. That's when things became interesting.

    After two injections, the left side of my mouth become instantly numb. My dentist (still masked, but now wearing goggles too, making me feel more like a bio-hazard than a patient) set to work at grinding away surplus tooth. Very noisy and smelly (yes smelly, I too didn't think the friction caused by a dentist's drill could make old fillings hot enough to smoke) it all was. Fortunately, although uncomfortable, it didn't hurt.

    The ear piercing swrill, the grinding, went on forever, until, happy with his work, my dentist invited to rinse out my mouth. A simple task you might think, but not when one's tongue and lips are without sensation. I promptly dribbled the cup of minty pink liquid down my chin and onto my shirt. Only a few measly drops found themselves inside the tiny sink.

    I'd barely sat back again, when without warning, my mouth was filled with enough putty to fit a fair-sized shop window.

    With my mouth brimmng and nose partially blocked - probably the start of a dreadful cold or even flu (I'm known for being a hypochondriac), I could barely breathe. Laying flat on my back, it felt like I was being waterboarded.

    Whilst waiting for the putty to harden it was explained that 'we were make an impression for the new crown'. 

    The putty took a minute or so to go off, enough time for me to die if I hadn't been able to snort a smidgen air up my nose and down into my lungs to avoid it.

    With the putty removed Mr Dentist then promptly fitted a temporary crown. Again, because of my numbness, there was no pain. 

    After warnings things might be a sore for a few days, he booked me an appointment for the final fitting then allowed me to go home.

    Home. The anesthetic took less than an hour to wear off. The numbness was replaced by pain. It came in buckets. This was not like any pain I had ever suffered before. Admittedly, I've never broken a bone. Never have I hit my head hard enough to knock myself out either, but regardless, this pain was intense, beyond belief. Fortunately, I had a stock of ibuprofen. I began knocking them back like a kid eating candy on Halloween. The pills worked well, but even when fully dosed, I still couldn't chew on the left-hand side of my mouth. Hot, or cold drinks were a nightmare, they sent bolts like red hot pokers straight into my brain. I wanted to scream but could barely open my mouth wide enough to even speak.

    I spent days living on warm soup and doped up on painkillers whilst all the time talking like a ventriloquist who'd lost his doll.

    At last the time came for my fitting. Off to the dentist I trotted.

    Before taking back to the chair, I warned my dentist not to touch anything until I was suitably numbed. Behind his mask I think he wore a  sympathetic face. Dutifully obliged me with a single jab. Never have I welcomed a needle shoved straight into my gums that much before. It was nice to have some kind of solace, the first time in days. 

    The temporary cap came off with the flick of a wrist.

    Taking into consideration my registered agony, Mr Dentist decided to fit the crown with temporary cement. He wanted to 'let things settle down', before going permanent. With another rinse and a whole lot more dribbling, I was allowed to go home.

    I was still in the waiting room, booking an appointment for 7 days time, when surprise, surprise, my crown fell off. Spitting it into my hand, showing it to the slightly bemused young woman, she batted her oversized false lashes (causing quite a draft) and promptly ushered me back into the surgery. With no further drama, the crown was re-fitted. This time 'we' used a bit more temperary cement.

    Not unexpectedly the crown fell off once more, but at least it stayed put for a couple of hours this time.

    As you might guess, because I now had a gaping hole with exposed nerves, the pain was worse than ever. After necking a weeks worth of painkillers in one fell swoop,  I called the surgery to get an emergency appointment. Failed. I was told the dentist was fully booked and should come back only at the previously appointed time.

    The 'appointed date' couldn't come around quick enough. If I could, I would have cheered when it did.

    Crown has been fitted!!! 

    Before the process began I whinged my heart out at the dentist - told him the hell I'd lived for the last two weeks. I barely got a nod back in return, more of a 'I'm listening you poor little cherub' type look. It was the sort of reaction your mother used to give when you fell over and burst into tears for nothing.

    The day after. I'm touching wood as I type this but so far things are going well. The sensitivity of the tooth has dropped significantly. Hot and cold drinks no longer fill me with dread. There is still a niggling ache, which hour by hour seems to be diminishing. I'm taking a single painkiller about 3 times a day to keep things in-check.

    Early days I know, but it looks like I'm going to make it. I'm not going to die. 

    Let's now get back to the original question: Is toothache worse than child birth?

Answer: No it isn't. They are exactly the same.