Friday, September 3, 2010

The Dentist: Childhood

I hate the dentist.
I know that's not terribly unusual.
It's probably not even that unusual that the thought of being at the dentist makes me break out in a cold sweat and want to cry.

It all began when I was a child.
My dentist office let you wear headphones and watch any movie you wanted on the little tv in each room.

Unfortunately it was hard to focus on the tv show from the INCREDIBLE PAIN of having your gums roughly gouged.

As a child, I thought maybe that was just how much the dentist hurt. As an adult, I know this to be false. They were unnecessarily rough with me. And evil.

One day they decided they had to pull some of my teeth. More than some, actually. A plethora.
A plethora of my teeth.

They brought me in a back room, with the little tv for a pleasant distraction.
But nothing could distract me from the reflection of the dental surgery in my dentist's large glasses.

I survived somehow. I have a vague memory of something hurting enough to make my eyes water and tears roll down my cheeks.
But then it was over.
I was the happiest.

I was so excited and happy to go home. It was over!
Boy, was I thirsty.
No one explained to me what happens after the dentist though.
My mom had set up a comfy bed for me to relax and recover.

I was so comfortable and sleepy.
I just wanted some water.
I took a sip.
The water slimed right back out!

My mouth was still numb.
It would remain numb for several hours.
I couldn't drink! I couldn't eat!
All I could do was quietly weep.

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