If the Nephites Didn't Have Dentists...

I shouldn't need one either, right?

This morning I had a dentist appointment. Ever since I was a kid and had to go to Dr. Death located on Major Pain Ave, in Suite Fear, I've been a little apprehensive to go. Gideon (in his obnoxious perfection) brightly told me what a wonderful experience he had yesterday, and assured me that I had absolutely nothing to worry about. I know he means well, but when he says things like that, it really only makes me more uncomfortable.The office is just past our parking lot, so we can easily walk. It's not like I can blame traffic. As I walked up the stairs, I felt like I was walking into the Testing Center at my University, or worse like I was on my way up to heaven to be judged for all of my sins. I kept thinking, "I'm not ready for this! I need more time." I hesitated as I put my hand on the front door of the office, but the secretary had already seen me. It was too late to bolt. I smiled (mouth closed), and filled out the paperwork. As I sat waiting, my stomach tightened more and more, until I felt like I should just go ahead and puke so I could hopefully reschedule.

I know this sounds dramatic, but I'm really not trying to exagurate.

For a minute, the secretary got up to make a copy, and my eyes flashed to the exit. But no sooner than I could have gotten up to run away, a sweet looking girl popped her head out, and said, "Alyssa"?
I was the only one in the room, but I thought about saying something like, "Nope. That's not me. My name is... Roberta Pumpperstien." Then I could run while she looked for my file. However, in real life, I'm not as brave as I am in my head. I answered (more like whispered) "yes", and followed her into the cave of dentistry. She had me sit on that chair. That awful chair, the one that allows her to make me lie down so she can stare into my mouth with that little light on her head. I've never been abducted by aliens, but that's how I imagine that kind of experience to be like. I tried not to, but a few times I made little wimper noises. She didn't seem to notice. She was too busy poking my gums. In my head, I'm thinking all sorts of things. "Why do they have to touch me?? Why do they have to touch my mouth?! Is nothing sacred? Why do they use those pointy tools that look uncomfortably similar to torture devices? And why do they talk to me when they know I can't talk back? (Ahem, my mouth is full of your tounge poker, and that skinny little mirror. Not to mention my spit.)" My hygentist was telling me stories about patients who fell asleep while she cleaned their teeth. In my head, I'm like, "Lady, I couldn't be more awake, and the people who are falling asleep while you scrape thier mouth are probably under some sort of drug influence. I felt like I had been sitting strapped (of course there are no real straps) into this awful chair, staring at the same ceiling that had a poster on it that said, "Every day is a Gift." Is that supposed to help with the anxiety? It sure didn't help me. I needed something to distract myself from the immense discomfort. I started thinking about places I normally hate that I would rather be than in this chair.

My goal was to reach 5.
Why do I do this to myself?

1. I'd rather be cleaning my stove.
2. I'd rather be scrubbing my tub.
3. I'd rather be touching raw meat. (Eeww.)

-at this point, my hygentist poked me extra hard, and I started thinking harder about my list.

4. I'd rather be pulling weeds. (Ow!) In 90 degree weather!
5. I'd rather be waiting to get my oil changed.

(sigh.) I got through it. There was pleanty more I could have come up with, but I was determined to stop at five. After the hygentist was finished, she brightly told me I had very nice teeth, and the dentist was on his way in. The dentist did a little diddy on my mouth, and I was done. My mouth hurts. And all I want is ice cream.



I was thinking. I bet the Nephites did have dentists. Maybe not a person with a kit of pointy tools, but someone who people would go to for pain in the mouth. And I bet it was no fun. Just sayin.

Sorry for the grouchy post. (I feel like I've been specializing in them lately.)
Everyone have a lovelier Wednesday than me, please!