I had to go to the dentist this morning for several different procedures. Just the thought of the dentist has always put me into a cold sweat. I have a very low threshold for pain and sensitive teeth, so it’s always been a struggle not to turn into a squirming mess every time I enter the dentist’s office.
Being nervous, I like to get there early, survey the crowd, and see who is going to be sharing the experience in the same hour(s) that I am there. Today there was just one–a middle-aged woman who had a glazed look. She rang the bell, opened the door, and immediately made tracks for the rest room.
The nurse called both our names at the same time. She was still in the bathroom. She opened the door with her belt hanging and her shirt over her opened pants and said she’d be right out. She was there at least five minutes more!
The dentist I go to is one that I have been going to for decades. I like to think that over the years, I’ve mellowed out some, but I don’t think I really have—at least not much. I felt much better the minute the gas he gave me took effect. It’s a bit like being drunk but not caring–so I didn’t!
I paid my (very large) bill and walked to the elevator. The woman who had been hiding in the bathroom was there too. I mentioned that I was glad the procedures were over and that I was going home. By way of being chatty, I suggested that perhaps I was the worst patient the Dr. ever had. She looked straight at me and said: “no, I am.”
I have no idea what went on in examining room #2 while I was in room #5, but I wasn’t going to fight her for the title. I just wished her a great weekend, and walked out into the sunlight, smiliing.