Mellow amber light drifted on and off as I intermittently opened and closed my eyes. I was lying comfortably. The man's face was inches from mine, inverted, and I could feel his hot breath, and look at his brown pupils as he stared itently at me. It was as if I was the only person in teh room that mattered to him. And then he switched on the electric drill.
Yes, readers, I am writing of my latest tryst with the dentist, with a faux Dame Barbara opening. I went to get a sensitive tooth checked out and walked out dazed from a root canal - "you'll just have to come back next week, and the week after, for me to drill it all out and back. And don't forget the crown, which by the way is not covered by your insurance, and will only cost a gazillion bucks".
I deride a noble profession. Frankly the only pain I feel is the one due to keeping my mouth open so long. But the things we humans have evolved into doing - besides the aforementioned drills, various tools must have been used, including a tiny one that looked like a capacitor with a 1-inch metal wire sticking out of it. You guessed it - down it went the newly drilled hole, cleaning up what nerve bits were left behind. Uh-huh.
I did not even get the slurred speech which I thought would make the work place hilarious for once. Damn, this is a dissappointment. At least the nose doctors squirt some cocaine up... oops, sorry, have a date with Ms Patch. Morphine Patch. Ta da.
No comments:
Post a Comment