by A. L. Sugden

Created on: August 28, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

I'm not afraid of the dentist. Really. We have an unspoken agreement: she lets me use the laughing gas and I close my eyes when she walks in the room. If I can't see what's going on, nothing's really happening, right? I'd close my eyes before I entered the building but that could be painful.

Ok, so maybe I am afraid to go to the dentist. I always have been a little. But it's not the dentist I'm afraid of, it's the needles. And the nasty numbing gel. And the metal tools scraping around in my mouth. And the numbness to tingling to normal transition after.

The last couple years I've had a clean mouth, no cavities. Just the required cleanings twice a year, in and out, thank you. But this time they had to go and find two sticky spots. I have sticky teeth. They scheduled a pain & torture session filling for a couple weeks out. I've spent 14 days dreading today. I even brushed, flossed and rinsed twice as long as usual, hoping for a miracle. My miracle working skills need improvement.

I walked into the dentist office with my eyes wanting to stay at least half closed. Before I had a chance to get comfortable in the waiting room I was escorted to the back. My dentist's office is fantastic: the rooms have huge windows that show lush foliage and bird feeders right in front of the chair. And the TV is angled so you can watch even when you're tilted towards the floor.

According to the dentist's assistant, it is ok that I'm still a little afraid to go to the dentist. I'm not the only adult who asks for laughing gas! She asked me which flavor I wantedhow cool is that? I still get to pick the flavor!and pulled out the nose gripper. I hate feeling like I can't get enough oxygen, but we have an agreement. Gas for closed eyes. So I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Embrace the tingles. Love the tingles. Within a few minutes my mouth is numb. The dentist came in to give an injected anesthetic. Of course I know this now, but I had my eyes closed at the time so that I could pretend she was massaging my gum. Imagination is the closest thing I have to a miracle. Don't tell her that her massage skills need improving.

The dentist left her assistant with me while we waited for the anesthetic to work its magic. I know it works: I drool more at the dentist's than my mother's lab drools at breakfast time. I'm glad the assistant was more attentive than my normal hygenist. The slightest grimace brought her attention fully on me. All I ever did was look at the sucker hose thing to get her to

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