Just Shoot Me!

I went to my fourth dentist appointment in the last two weeks yesterday. Actually, this was a visit to the Endodontist (They work inside your teeth, rather than just inside your mouth). My arrival in the waiting room told me I'd be paying a pretty penny for their extra-professional services.

I was led to a back room with a cleverly painted green ceiling, retro chairs and dim lights. The assistant asked me questions about my teeth which always scares me to answer. What if I answer incorrectly? Pop quiz: What tooth do you think has the most sensitivity to sweets? Now does it hurt more when you have cold water or really cold water with pink ice cubes in a yellow cup? How the heck do I know!? I told her I couldn't remember. Bad, bad answer. Now she had to test it.

She started by blowing cold air between the suspicious tooth. "Just raise your hand when it begins to hurt and I'll stop right away." My hands were tightly gripping the pleather chair. I grunted instead. "Right there? Or was it there?" She blew again.

"Well, hmmm, I'm still not positive on which tooth it is. It could either be the back one or the one next to it. Let me try another test. I'm going to tap the end of my mirror on your teeth. Let me know if it starts to hurt."
"It hurts."
"I haven't started tapping yet."
"It's gonna hurt. Trust me."
"Okay, well we just have one more test. I'm going to get an ice stick from the freezer, hold it on your teeth, and see from there. I'll be right back."

JUST SHOOT ME!

She returned with the ice stick. Seriously, after four tries and nearly going through the roof, you want to do something seriously awful to the dental assistant. She left the room just in time before I could bite her hand. The Endodontist arrived, smilingly took my hand in hers. "Hi! I'm Dr. Jane. I'm just going to have to do some tests to see which tooth is causing the problem. Are you still alright?"