At the Dentist

I was in the dentist’s chair this morning for about two hours. Doesn’t that sound like a ton of fun?

I’m having a bridge put in which I thought would be a relatively easy process. I thought he would just mould a tooth, plop it in and sort of super-glue it to the adjoining teeth.

No. Apparently, the adjoining teeth had to have foundations drilled in resembling those in the Brooklyn Bridge. Caissons had to be lowered in, brick and mortar had to set up, and steel trusses had to be bolted into place. . .

Actually, I don’t really mind the dentist that much. You just basically lay there with your mouth open for two hours which is a pretty good way of getting out of work.

The dentist tries to make everything taste nice and minty. The rinse-n-spit water is spearmint flavored. Then, the goop they use to make the impressions even had a pleasant minty taste.

Then, Oh My God! He put something in my mouth that tasted like a bitter, dead weasel. I wanted to strike him, saying, “Ewww, What IS that? Get it out! Get it out!”

Then, the bitter-weasel flavor just trickled down the back of my throat for the next half hour. It was horrible.

He had to drill and drill and drill. I don’t mind the drilling itself, but I hate that smell. It’s sort of like burnt hair. That can’t be good.

Fortunately, my dentist is only four blocks from work, so I was a trooper and made it in.

The Novocain has worn off, so I’m going home and have Ibuprofen for dinner.