Monday, April 5, 2010

Little Shop of Horrors

Confession: I hate going to the dentist.

I realize this is not a unique confession. I do not have to take Valium or anything before I go. I can sit still in the chair while the instruments hum, pop and grind in my mouth, well for the most part I can sit still.

When I was a child my dentist smelled like old graham crackers (my sister will vouch for me) and was generally rude. The only thing I liked about going to his office was his secretary's fingernails. They were long, VERY long and always bright, fire engine, sticky sweet lollipop red.

My fears, or distaste, for dentists are deeply seeded in my childhood. Oddly, I still like graham crackers and bright red long fingernails, although my own are stubby and almost never painted.

Currently my dentist is in high demand and if I have to cancel an appointment I am cast off to some date at the end of the following year regardless of my schedule. I also generally don't like him or his staff. They are either dumb or aggravated at life in general- either way I do not like them poking around my mouth with sharp things.

Before I was a Mrs., before I was a Mama I worked for an elected official in capital of our lovely state. Therefore, I had a dentist in that area, so I could go on my lunch break.

I went in during a lunch time appointment (yea convenient!) to have a cavity filled.

Laying back in the chair waiting for the Novocain to do it's thang, I heard the doctor setting up the drill. She seemed to be fumbling a bit, but no matter she was wearing gloves. Although, the Novocain is not kicking in. I mentioned this and she gave me another dose of meds and dove in to tackle the tooth.

I involuntarily jerked. I could feel everything, the doc administered more meds and followed with more (attempted) drilling.

Jerking my head to the right again, I'm told, in a stern tone reserved by most mothers for the candy aisle in the grocery store, that I needed to remain still until she was finished.

This pain, jerk, reprimand pattern continued until after 5 consecutive shots of Novocain leaving me virtually numb-less.

Then it happened. She says, "DON’T SIT UP!"

So, OF COURSE, I shot up and said, "Huh?!"

She replied- with a look of horror on her face, "You just swallowed a drilll bit!" She rushed off, probably to cry and call her lawyer. Her assistant said, "You're not pregnant are you." He said this WHILE HE CHUCKLED!

I called my boss, told her what happened and that I was going to need to take off the next morning so I could have an x-ray. As I sat in the waiting room the net day filling out paper work, the secretary asked, “What is the reason for the x-ray?”

The whole waiting room listened to my tale and followed up with comments of:

"You should sue!"

"Are you ok?"

"What was the dentist name?"

After the x-ray the technician came back into the office and said nothing seemed to be torn and told me it looks like everything will...pass....naturally. She was polite and kept the giggling to a minimum.

Humiliation thy name is pooping drill bits.

I switched dentists. Well, I’ve switched dentist 3 times since this…incident. If you live in my area- you know who you are- please save me from myself and give me the name of a good, gentle, non-drill bit dropping dentist.