My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Yup, two babies in one day, both girls, one big and one little.

In honor of being off call, I went to the dentist. I like my dentist. She's a nice lady who owns a farm where she raises sheep and sheep dogs. She brings eggs to her clinic and sells them. We gossip like crazy and go over time. However. She has instruments of torture that defy description, including the DENTAL DAM. What is the use of this, I ask you? Why do you need a tiny trampoline clamped to your teeth? Or tooth to be exact. Imagine how the tooth feels, being singled out like that. I can hear the other teeth heaving sighs of relief that they aren't under such scrutiny and worse. 

Then there is the grinding drill, not the eeny drill but the honkin' big grinder that makes your head feel like it is on sideways permanently. I also think the hinge in my jaw on the right side is broken. No, really. And she said to her assistant that she would have to stand on her head to get to my tooth on the top. I couldn't imagine this so I closed my eyes and tried to sleep or pass out. Neither worked.

I also know I could never be a dental assistant because there are too many tools with too many names. 

"Give me the pulverized forklift with the green handle. No, the big one"

"Rinse"

"Oh, you've bitten your tongue. That's going to hurt"

" I need the cuticle treadmill."

"Now the left sided metronome scraper."

"Suction"

(me) "Argggah  gurgle gggaaaaah."

 

And so on.