Yesterday at the dentist I had the pleasure of undergoing what the dental community proudly refers to as “The Bull’s Eye.” What this means is that your dental “professional” accidentally stabs you in your piehole nerve with a needle full of numbing agents.
What this also means is that you can wind up wandering around drooling with what appears to be Bell’s Palsy on your half-paralyzed face for as long as two months.
The best part about this experience was not the horrific electro shocks that permeated my jaw, nor was it the ensuing panic attack that led to my impatient dentist’s command to “Go to the bathroom and slap some water on your face and don’t come back until you calm down. I don’t want you to get all freaked on me while I’m working.”
No, the best part of all this occurred after I’d gone to the restroom to freak out and returned to find the doctor and her assistant discussing their own dental horror stories.
As I stared up at the yellow overhead light, the blue gloved hands and shiny, clanking implements invading my face, I was treated to the following conversation.
“Don’t feel bad, Dr. A. When I was a kid, my parents took me to a dentist who had glaucoma. He’d tell dirty jokes the whole time while he worked on the wrong teeth and poked my gums out.”
“Oh, that’s just great. Real nice. No, but when I was a kid, my dentist never washed his hands and he didn’t wear gloves and he’d chew gum, smacking it in my face like this…”
At this point my dentist removed her mask and started slapping her gob around above my open mouth that the assistant still had the spreader in. I flinched even with my safety goggles on and watched her, appalled at her poor mime skills. She looked like Mr. Ed after getting into a crate of Jiffy.
On and on they went one-upping each other in the horrors of dentistry until I began to wonder if I’d wandered onto the set of a Monty Python sketch instead of a place of serious business. That is until a drill was shoved into my mouth that rattled my skull with all the gentle pulsating of a rogue jack hammer.
Needless to say this was not a fun experience and I will now be taking Xanax with me to get fillings. That is if ever go back. My chin and lower lip are finally less numb, but I doubt I’ll ever trust that Little Shop of Horrors to operate on me again. I finally understand why so many people hate the dentist.
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