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The tooth.
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The bill.
First, thank you Ree for watching the kids so that I could take a much needed
trip to the dentist.
On Sunday night, I was innocently eating a delicious sugar cookie.
Chewing away, I felt something hard. Trying to chew it, I realized that it was too
hard to eat, spit it into my hand, examined it, and proclaimed, "That looks like a tooth."
Imagine my shock when I realized it was a tooth and not just any tooth, MY TOOTH!!
At least it didn't hurt.
Now, I hate dentists, really, really hate them. They may be nice people when
they aren't sporting needles and drills, but when they are,
I would rather stay away. For many years I have managed to avoid the
dentist. Well, a chipped tooth. What was I to do. I could either become
one of those guests on Jerry Springer who sports a smile
that screams, "I have poor oral hygiene," or I could put my fears aside
and go to the dentist. Debating my options Jerry Springer smile or
dentist, I had to choose dentist. Not that there's anything wrong
with Jerry's guests. It's just not me. Thankfully, I found a dentist
that didn't laugh at me when I explained my fear of needles, drills, and Novocaine. He
continued to listen as I begged for the gas, only to learn that it is currently
illegal to use knock out gas in a dentist's office.
He promised that I would feel nothing, and that my experience would
be "pleasant". I wasn't too sure. Pleasant and Dentist seem a bit
like oxymorons. Well, I didn't feel anything. He numbed my mouth so much
that I didn't even feel the needle deliver the Novocaine. He allowed the Novocaine
to work, and I didn't even feel it as he drilled what was
left of my tooth away. Now, I wouldn't choose a trip to the dentists
over an afternoon shopping trip, but it wasn't that bad.
I even made an appointment to get the rest
of my mouth examined. I guess I won't
become one of those TV talk show guests
that are missing the majority of their teeth.