It is 9:00 in the morning.  I’m seated under a bright light, rigid, terrified and slightly reclined.  My dentist is doing some hard-core dentistry inside my mouth.  

Specifically, Dr Ames is pulling a tooth.  At least, she’s trying to pull a tooth.  The tooth has other ideas.  Little pieces of it keep breaking off in Dr. Jones’ pliers.  Let’s just say I’m a little overdue for a visit to the dentist – about ten years overdue.

But Dr. Ames, bless her, is not being judgmental or lecturing me.  She’s far too busy planting her jack-booted foot on my chest to get a little more leverage.  Dr. Ames has pretty much declared war on my mouth.  And me without my white flag. 

I picked Dr. Ames out of the yellow pages because she is the first female dentist listed.  I have a hard-core phobia about dentists, and I thought maybe a woman would be gentler.  Ok, that’s a little sexist of me, but in my defense, I was very drunk and in a lot of pain at the time.  One little tip for you – if you rub a little Scotch whiskey on a really sore tooth, it does absolutely nothing.  However, if you then drink half a bottle of Scotch whiskey, you will get the idea that you can pull your own tooth.  Pulling your own tooth is harder than you might think, especially when you are drunk.  In retrospect, I would have to advise against even trying it.  At the very least, find a clean pair of pliers.

Dr. Ames doesn’t offer the gas.  What a shame.  When I was a kid, the nitrous oxide gas was definitely the highlight of any dental visit.  In my opinion, the law should require anything that can make a visit to the dentist even a little more enjoyable. 

Remember the gas?  You just put the mask over your nose and breathe deeply.  Within a few minutes, you won’t even care that the dentist is going to take a bunch of pointy stainless steel tools and pry, scrape, poke, grind and gouge the most sensitive area of your entire body not used for reproductive purposes.  In fact, within fifteen minutes you are channeling dead rock stars, totally indifferent to the atrocities being committed in your mouth in the name of dental science.       

But no gas for me on this visit.  Just a little Novocain shot into my gum via a 7 or 8 inch gleaming metal needle.    

Doctor Ames did finally manage to wrench the tooth from my mouth.  With a defiant howl of triumph, she held her pliers aloft, basking in the glory of a job well done.  At least that’s how I remember it.  Meanwhile, I whimpered quietly, glad it was finally over.

It really wasn’t that bad.  Maybe I’ll even come back for a check-up in a few months. 

Then Dr. Ames showed me the bill.  Ouch.

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