Need I really say more? I've been to the dentist several times since I've been here, and I've cried every time but one. And that includes simple cleanings, although it was the last cleaning that I survived intact.
It's not the shots, although they leave me trembling. I mean, give me the Novocaine any time rather than not! Oh my yes, although I really despise that spongy feeling, like your lips are three inches thick. No, it's the high-frequency squeal of the drill and all the other instruments. They sound like rabid hornets, and they're in my mouth! How can my blood pressure not spike? Can anyone not be stressed? And then there's the smell of burning bone, the gurgle of water they can't quite get out of your throat - and I gag if they poke just right, which they always do - the crack and crunch of bones being mangled.
Medical techniques have come so far, why not dentistry? Lillian's Aunt Helen had her broken hip worked on surgically and it was amazingly fast. The incision was tiny! But we haven't improved much since the 70's. Well, except for the light. Does anyone but me remember the old lights that were huge and seemed like they'd drop on you? Castle was the brand.
It's got to be the insurance companies holding us back. I know that I'm only getting the type of filling that my insurance covers, which my dentist implied was not the best, just what they covered. Maybe if insurance magnates had to use their basic policies for their own dental care, they'd be more compassionate. Insurance and compassionate in the same sentence. Yep, I'm obviously not feeling right.
Bedtime, it's obviously bedtime. Dear darling dentist shoved a post into my upper jaw this morning and I'm grumpy and aching. Things will be better tomorrow, right?
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