The sadist is ready to see you now
When I was young I had a bit of a martyr-complex. This has carried over to adulthood in climactically favorable situations, such as when I get cavities filled.
They stick me four times with novocaine and I want to make sure they don't underdo it. Though I weigh 214 3/4, many mistake me for a 180 pounder. I wear weight well, which is normally an advantage but isn't when a dentist is determining how much novocaine to give you.
"Uh, is this based on weight?"
The dentist nods his head.
"Well, I weigh 214...just FYI...sometimes I don't get enough novocaine."
The assisting dental hygienist humors me. "Don't worry, we'll find out!"
"That's what I'm afraid of." Gallows humor.
They wait for the gums to numb and I try to get them talking because I don't want them to start before the gums are properly numbed.
They begin and the doc does about ten seconds of work and withdraws his Instrument of Terror and I say, "Well that wasn't so bad" and it got a surprisingly enthusiastic laugh from the dental assistant. She's obviously starved for entertainment, though oblivious to my pain.
The operation proceeds apace and the doctor grinds away part of the tooth. Apparently the dentist's motto is "first, do harm". I grip the chair arms like they're the sides of a Titanic lifeboat. Eventually he reaches a nerve and I realize that "pain-free denistry" is still a oxymoron.
I'm not especially good at having my mouth open at a 90-degree angle for long periods of time, so the doctor admonishes me that if I de-sanitize the situation he'll have to start over. This is supremely motivating. After this I'm the model patient, gag-reflex or not. The fact that I'm suddenly able to take things up a notch and perform at a higher level as a patient makes me think that in my spiritual life I could do better given proper motivation. This bothers me, though not at this particular moment.
The doc and assistant take a break after finishing one tooth. Doc says he's leading a bible study tomorrow night and I'm somewhat relieved that I have a Christian doing it and I hope he has that famed "Protestant work ethic". I love Spain but no siestas please while I'm in the chair.
But he does seem to take a siesta. It's a good fifteen minutes and I've relaxed too much, slumped in this supine position. I've gotten downright comfortable and put my hands behind my head. It's practically over.
He comes back and begins anew and it's like, hey-oh, this ain't ovah. More drillin', more fillin' and more 90-degree angles. Whenever you anticipate a finish you only prolong it.
Eventually the doctor lets me go and I feel the euphoria that only comes after an end to fasting or a dental visit.
No comments:
Post a Comment