Open Wide

"Are you okay, Tammy?"

I barely nod and loosen my tightly interlaced fingers lying across my abdomen.

"Relax your tongue." My dentist says for the fifth time.

Now I had no clue my tongue tried to get in the way. With the nitrous gas, the Novocain, and all the adrenalin pumping through my mouth and body, who knew that sneaky tongue ran interference? Again.

Thank God I told the technician that I'm a cheap date when it comes to the gas. After two minutes, I request to have it decreased because I have to remind myself to breath.  My head feels woozy. Super cheap like the dollar store.

"Most patients get around 30. I had you set at 20 so let's drop it to 10. Feel better?"

I nod again.

The weird thoughts—or more like conversations—which are playing in my head, well it's like being stuck in a bizarre Mardi Gras parade located between my ears.  

"You have a strong tongue, Tammy." The technician says.

"I could have told you that." Hubby adds to my crazy mind-party.  

"That's not nice." I tell Hubby. "Give me a break. Don’t you hear the squealing drills screaming in my ear?" Relax toes.

Not quite sure why God didn't put our teeth down by our feet. That sure would have made this experience more enjoyable. I mean it's all right there together. Ears. Sinuses. Nose. Tongue. Eyes. Brain. So while  this chaos is happening in my mouth, I get to closely hear every single drill, smell the grinding of tooth, taste all the chemicals used to clean and seal my tooth, see two  faces invading my personal space, and freak out the neurons in my brain. All at once. Yuk!

"Tammy, you still okay?" The dentist inquires as he moves the drill to the other side of my tooth.

I open my eyes and slightly nod. And we pay lots of money to have this done. Prep a tooth for a cap. Truthfully, seems like they should pay us.

"Take good care of your teeth." My dad advises.

I wonder when he arrived to this mind-fiesta. "Yep. Working on that."

Now I wish I had better dental DNA, but let's just say I'm not gifted in that area. Relax legs muscles.

Wonder how many holes are in that acoustic ceiling? At least a million, I'm sure.

I bet they couldn't make those drills louder. How does the paint manage to stay on the wall listening to that all day? Oh, yea. Paint doesn't have ears. Relax glutes. I'm going to be sore tomorrow from the extreme tightening of every single muscle. Over and over.

"You have small teeth." My dentist says. "Relax your tongue."

My tongue can't really help itself. It's always been stuck inside this uptight person who manages life with childhood PTSD issues. It doesn't know a different life. Poor thing. Relax forehead muscles.

Someone pray for me. "Oh, pray for yourself, wimpy girl." Who said that?

Lord, help me. And make the voices be nice.

"Still doing good, Tammy?" The technician asks while running the mini power washer and super sucker straw. 

I open my eyes and nod again. Just dandy.

Sure is a shame I can't bottle this excessive adrenalin oozing from my pores and save it for later. Just saying, it would come in handy when taking care of the grandkids. Relax knee caps. Can't be much longer.

"Turn slightly toward me, please. Almost done." My dentist turns off the piercing drill.

Honestly, I hear the paint sigh. Relax heels.

"Do you still wish you were giving birth than having this done?" The technician inquires while rinsing off my teeth.

I shrug my shoulders. I'll evaluate that decision when I'm not under the influence and all these folks aren't chiming in.

She explains to the dentist how lots of women say they would prefer to go to their OB / GYN than have dental procedures. And that she asked her OB if women ever say they'd prefer dental work over a pelvic. The OB said, "Never." I don't think he quite understands. 

"That's not surprising at all. I mean who adores dental work?" My mom's voice drips with sarcasm.  

Oh, I'm so glad she didn’t miss this peculiar mind-festival. Relax neck muscles.

"Okay, let's take off this mask. And set this chair up." The technician pats me on the shoulder. "All done."

Oh, my. Amazing news. "See, I survived. Now you three pack up! Party's over."

As I leave the room, I silently salute (with newfound respect) the paint on the wall.

What about you? How do you feel about dental work? Any mind-party stories to share? Do tell.

Tammy Van Gils is a writer, blogger, and co-owner of S & N Paint Contractors, Inc. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Word Weavers International. In the Richmond area, she is a member of The Christian Writers Hub and Word Weavers Richmond. Visit her Facebook Page, Pinterest and Twitter @Tammyvangils.