I went back to the gum guy on Thursday. Here’s my problem: If I was having open heart surgery, I don’t want to hear, “We’re going to crack open your chest with a chain saw, pry you open with a huge metal vice, then start slicing up……” No! I don’t need to hear that! All I need to hear is, “You’re not going to die.”  So I get there and am in the chair with the woman who’s about to work on my infected tooth. This time I know not to look at any of the sharp, pointy, metal tools. Then in comes the gum guy, who said hi to me and then started to review my x-ray with the technician, telling her what needs to be done. “You’ll have to use that long blah-blah tool and get way up into this area here – it may take some time – but you’ll have to scrape all of this out. If she needs more numbing, you can give her another injection.” Hello!! I’m right here!! I did not need to hear that.

I thought about making a run for it. Maybe I should ask for a bunch of Advil & Tylenol… not for the pain… I want to get high. Next time (and there will be a next time) I’m bringing my ipod. If I ran things, every dentist’s office would serve wine.