I hate going to the dentist, but who doesn’t right? The big thing I hate, is you can have an appointment for eight in the morning so you’ll have the rest of the day to recover and they won’t get you in the chair until damn near nine. I’m not the patient they were looking for. I walked out of a dentist’s office one day and never returned because the woman at the desk told me at 8:45 it was “fairly common” for the eight in the morning appointments not to be seen until nine. When she told me she was going to charge me for a visit anyway, because I was already there things got downright weird. Clearly, I told her, she did not own the office so I wanted to speak to whoever did. Go back to your seat and bleat! The last thing they want is for someone to demand a service for their time. Other sheeple began to get restless. They gave me back my paperwork and my files and I walked. Baa! Baa! Baa!
The medical profession doesn’t like me. I’m not taking a damn thing for anything unless I’m fairly certain that I can’t ride it out on my own. Normally, they treat the symptoms of what you have and you ride it out anyway, but with some chemical in your body telling you your body was wrong for acting that way and being stoned and sick is better than being sick. My doctor has stopped telling me what is good for me and simply asks what I want him to do. I’ve never come right out and told him I didn’t give a damn what he thought, but I’ve hinted around that for all their white coats and stethoscopes, they’re basically a linoleum floor away from being snake oil salesmen. Oddly, if you went into a restaurant and they told you what you wanted to eat and didn’t listen to you, that might be the last time you ate there but when it comes to a doctor most people bobble head away at them and never think twice about what exactly is in those pills.
Robin, the woman who cleans my teeth offers me a pill, in fact, and this time I take it. It’s suppose to relax me while she’s working and this will be one of those age old dichotomies where the person working gets less money than the person who isn’t. The dentist will come in to look me over for a few seconds and leave again. Robin will begin her soliloquy as I will be lying there with my mouth open yet mute. She’s a young mother, a young wife, and her family takes up all her space mind space. I usually nod or grunt or wink in agreement and I wonder if she finds herself repeating her words fifteen times a day. The pill kicks in and I can feel my own mind receding.
I’m here to get my teeth clean, but the dentist comes in and gives me a shot next to one of my teeth. It’s suppose to numb the pain but it feels like a spider has wrapped all eight legs around the tooth and is digging into the gums. The numbness hurts, and my eyes water. Each shot feels worse than the first, and my teeth are buoys in a sea of pain. Robin sucks the spit out of my mouth, but it feels like blood. They speak in hushed voices and I can’t move my head. The background music is some light rock satellite station and Karen Carpenter is a surreal addition to our little family. There is the click of metal on metal. The sucking sound that rushes around in my head, the sensation of a warm piqued flowing in my mouth and an incredible numbness that is so painful my eyes bleed tears.
My teeth are gone. They are all lying in a tray in from of me. I look in the mirror and a freak stares back. The pulled my teeth out. All of them are gone and I try to scream but it’s a muffled sound that sprays spit out like a weak fountain. I try to claw my way of the room but the dentist tackles me.
“We have never left you” he whispers. I know that voice but I cannot place it.
I woke up face down on the floor in the bedroom, the dogs freaking out, and with blood in my mouth.