“But I thought I was at full cavity occupancy!” I whined. “What…did someone move out?”
“Yes- Number 14. Mesial distal bicuspid.”
I told Dr. T. I wanted a LOT of novacaine. I wanted to be drooling for hours.
I wanted to need a bib.
He administered one teeny little shot and told me he’d be back in a few minutes.
I waited for my mouth to get numb. I moved my jaw from side to side. I poked my tongue around my mouth. I slapped my face.
It was not working. I just knew it.
And I told him so.
Dr. T. disagreed. “I think you should have enough Novacaine,” he told me.
“You said THINK and SHOULD!” I squeaked.
“You said, ‘I THINK you SHOULD have enough Novacaine.”
“You should!” he insisted.
He still didn't get it. “I would rather you tell me, 'I know you have enough Novacaine.”
He growled, “Based on my 30 years of Dentistry, I’m certain you have more than enough Novacaine.”
Then he told me to open up.
“How long will you be drilling?” I asked.
“Relax! It’s like I’m fracking your tooth.”
“Just don’t fracture my tooth.”
Then he inserted the sonic blaster into my mouth. It sounded like an angry witch screaming her lungs out.
Then the witch started judging me, “zzzZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzZZZ She’s been eating jelly beans ZZZZzzzZZZZZZZZZ!"
OMG! How did she know?
“ZZZZZZZZZzzZZZ and Peeps zzZZZZ! And peanut brittle!”
Thankfully, the screaming stopped after a few minutes. And Dr. T said he was done.
Aside from the headache the screeching witch gave me, and the self-inflicted holes in my hands from clenching my fists too tightly, I didn’t feel a thing.
Whew. That was nothing!
I grabbed a fresh baked cookie on the way out of Dr. T’s office. (He knows how to grow his business.) And I headed into work.
But not before turning on the sign.