I’m sure you’re a nice person outside of your little shop of horrors

I finally made it to the dentist. The mission was to replace 2 fillings that were about 35 years old or so – the old “it’s gonna kill you” lead or aluminum things or something. I got the young turk who nattered on about his niece and nephew while he got the needle, the big frakkin’ needle, ready to put in my MOUTH.

I think I’ve noted before that I’m not BFF with dentists at the best of times (*cough* I might have hit one one time *cough*).

He said that the one on my right side “is a big sucker”, so there was no way I could do it without freezing. So I had the needle. Correction. THREE needles. And they hurt; I’m not even gonna lie.

The little one went okay, other than the smell of burning lead as he was drilling. That was really palatable. But then on the other side, with the “big one”, he needed some extra tools, like a freakin’ Borg instrument to prop open my mouth or clamp my tooth to my jaw or something, that I looked like this:

Marilyn/scotchneat at the dentist

Marilyn/scotchneat at the dentist

Okay, maybe not quite that, but it was pretty close, and I had on those bigass glasses that you have to wear so that you don’t get your own spit and/or lead fillings in your eyes.

The damn freezing didn’t wear off until about 8pm, which is about 5 hours of feeling like my teeth were stones and my lips were the size of a peach.

This has done nothing to improve my relationship with dentists.

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