laughing gas

I’m on my way to the dentist for the second time in two days.

It all started with my filling falling out yesterday. So I went by the dentist’s office in town to make an appointment. “We just had a cancellation; he can take you right now.” Eeek! I made a scared face and the internal dialogue war began.

What? Right away? Then I don’t have time to work myself up for it. But maybe it’s better this way. Then I don’t have days to freak out about it. Just go in and get it done. Although, I think I’d rather have days to prepare myself…

My opposing Jiminy Crickets were interrupted with, “Follow me…”

Oh dear.

It was a tense 20 minutes. Especially when Mr. Dentist decided to show me the huge, metal gun-like apparatus that he was going to use to inject me.

“Uhh… I really freak out with needles. Can’t you just give me laughing gas?”

“We don’t have that here… But don’t worry. This won’t hurt.”

“That’s what they always say!”

:: Commence uncontrollable laughter. ::

“I’m sorry. I’m laughing because I’m nervous.”

“See... you don't need laughing gas. You already have your own.” As he's saying that, he lifts the gun into position. That’s so not helping.

"Relax," he tells me. "You're so tense."

"Okay... just do it." I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and brace for impact.

If I’m honest, it wasn’t even all that bad. But I still hate it. Every. Single. Moment. Of. It.

And now I’m going back for a full cleaning since he didn’t have time to do it yesterday.

:: Start Lamaze-style breathing… NOW ::