Canal, that is.
I am, without hesistation, coming out as a big baby when it comes to dental procedures beyond cleanings. We, the small mouthed, have a bit of a reaction when it comes to multiple power tools hanging from our mouths. Only so much room in there, and when too many things pop in without explanation, your system panics a bit. It was hard enough to not hear Bill Cosby talk about how “they place all this stuff in your mouth…and then they want to talk to you.”
After receiving a dental dam, bite guard and assorted other appliances, I nearly gagged and the dentist wanted to why I think that happened? I believe I said something profound like “DFASDph!” which might be latin for only so much room in there. In a room filled with a myriad of equipment, it was if they knew I was trouble and was best tended to out of sight of the regular clientele.
So, the longest 85 minutes of my l life went, with me trying to balance a piece of pool liner (the damn) in my mouth, while holding the right pose to ensure a successful completion of this fresh hell as well as guard against any sudden lobotomies. You can tell the dentist had a tough day, when all this was placed without so much an explanation, as more of a reprimand. The folks working on me were great, but I can tell I was the cherry on the cake of a long day for the lady doing all the real work. But showing me what was going in my mouth was a little easier on my delicate psyche than just ramming stuff in there.
I don’t know if it was the noise that the drills make, combined with the battle of making sure you stay in your breath through your nose, but it was exhausting. In my travels, I’ve been in front of a few fights, been thrown from a couple of bikes, and even forced into a wall, but walking out of the office and getting into the car, I spilled into the driver’s seat and thought fondly of the aspirin I had at home.
But the bourbon was good (i was out of tylenol)