New Year, No More Dental Fear!

I don’t really have any New Year’s resolutions anymore because so many of my ambitions have been resolved with time and maturity. Take going to the dentist for instance. It was rough when I was a child because it was before the high speed drill or the water drill. It was a hand drill for me, the “speed” drill was run by two hamsters on a wheel. The only carryover from that time was nitrous oxide, aka, laughing gas. Some dentists refuse to use nitrous because they say, and I guess I have to believe them, that it gives women wild sexual fantasies. I’ve never had that experience, but I’d really like to know what brand of nitrous they used.

I used to need nitrous to make an appointment, but now that I’ve matured, and so has dentistry, it’s nothing to go the dentist anymore. Take my last visit for example. I pulled up to the office and parked, and the receptionist, so nice, came out to greet me.

“Let go of the steering wheel, Ms. Flynn! I’ll walk you in. The dentist is already for you. You don’t have to wait in the waiting room and read old magazines and get nervous and run out before your appointment like last time.”
“How is she doing, Lulu?”
“Fine Dr. Smith. She let go of the steering wheel and I’ve pulled one foot out of the car. Start the nitrous.”
“Already started. Here, let me hold the door for you, let go of the door jam, Ms. Flynn. You’ll be alright. That’s a good girl, here we go down the hall. That’s fine, and slide onto this nice comfortable dental chair. See the little zoo characters on the wall? Just concentrate on them. Remember how we named them all last time? Lulu - grab the waterjet - damn too late.
Give us the waterjet, Sally, don’t squirt Lulu or me. Hand it over, be good now...what? Yes, I’ll give you an extra toy at the end of the appointment. That’s a good girl. Here, Lulu, secure this.
Okay, Sally, let’s get the nitrous going. No, I don’t want a hit, put the mask back on your face. Lulu, pass me the duct tape, she tends to pull off the mask when she’s under so she can hit the high notes.”
“What high notes, Doctor?”
“She loves opera and under nitrous she thinks she can sing. It’s sad, very sad, but her generation has a lot to fear about dentistry, they all revert to being six years old when they get in the chair.”
“She looks like she’s under now, Doctor. Does she resist the locals?”
“Nope, once we’ve got her plowed under, we can do a lobotomy on this one.”
“What is that horrible sound she’s making, Doctor?”
“That, my dear assistant, is Nessum Dorma from Turandot, under the gas and on my nerves. Did the new toys come in?”
“Oh, you’re not serious, she gets a toy?”
“She gets two toys and a sticker and we get her an appointment with another dentist on the east end.”
“Why?”
“Our local dental society agrees to share people like her. We each take care of her in rotation.”