I had to go to the dentist yesterday. What is it about the dentist that strikes fear in the hearts of the most courageous people? At my last checkup, I was informed that the cavity that I had filled a few years ago (on one of my two front teeth) was no good and needed to be replaced. If it had been the same dentist (I switched a year ago), I would have said, “Well, I guess you’ll be doing this for free, right?”

She gave me the xylocaine (or whatever they are using these days) shot right in my gums above my 2 top front teeth, and soon my entire nose and upper lip were numb. The dentist drilled and then said, “Ok, now Susie (or whatever her name was) will fill your tooth.” Then Susie went to work. She said, “Ok, you’re done. I’m going to get the doctor to check my work (not a direct quote, but this was the impression I got).” The dentist came in, looked at my tooth, picked at the filling, flossed my tooth, and then started to drill again. Nothing was said, but I would bet that Susie’s work wasn’t up to snuff.

So 30 minutes after the initial shot, 2 drillings, some vigorous flossing and much sanding, I was done. When the dentist pronounced it good, I said, “Good thing. I was afraid you were going to whip out a belt sander pretty soon!” She laughed, chucked me on the shoulder, and left.

Man, do I hate going to the dentist.