Gas

Yesterday I had an appointment with the dentist. I hate the dentist. Oh, I have a perfectly wonderful dentist (I have learned there are way to many of them to put up with the bad ones). I just have issues with dentists that stem way, way back. Usually I phsyc myself up, get ready and sit, white knuckled through the entire process. I must not be very good at fooling him, because he is usually patting my shoulder, reminding me to breathe and assuring me he is almost done.

Well, yesterday, I just wasn't up to getting a couple fillings drilled out and refilled again, so I made up my mind to ask for it! I sat down in that chair, looked the hygienist straight in the eye and told her I wanted the gas. She looked confused at first, then disapproving at me. I stayed strong, I needed the drugs. She hemmed and hahed, but finally said she would see how much extra they would charge me, well trust me $30 is pretty minor to my piece of mind. So they put the nose piece on and at first nothing happened...but then, marvelously, joyously, relaxing, don't care if you pull them all and give me dentures kind of feeling. That had to be the most wonderful trip to the dentist I have ever had. Afterward, all I could think about was how many miserable hours I had previously spent in those chairs when it all could have been a wonderful blur. I'm not sure if they let you have the gas for cleanings, but I plan to make seriously use of this stuff in the future.

The only down side was the munchies I had on the way home, but that is a small price to pay for starting to like the dentist after 41 years!