I’m going today, and the very thought of laying back in that vinyl chair makes me want to vomit. I detest going to the dentist, but unfortunately it’s time for a cleaning. My fear is that the toothache I’ve been ignoring for two months is going to be my demise. I’m afraid he’ll use words like drill, shot, and root canal. I don’t even know what a root canal is, but it’s got to be the epitome of complete and total misery.
My companions at the dentist are a book to read in the waiting room and my iPod to listen to at full volume while he probes around my mouth. I don’t chitter-chatter or indulge his niceties. I’m not here to socialize, I usually explain. Get in and get out. And I don’t want to hear anything from you or your tools. No scraping, scratching, picking or, God help me, drilling noises.
The only time I didn’t mind the dentist was when I had my wisdom teeth removed, but that’s only because I was under complete anesthesia. They tell you to count backward from 10 and by the time you get to 8 it’s already time to wake up. The entire process is void from my mind. As it should be.
So I’m going to the dentist today and my stomach hurts. I feel light-headed and it’s taking a great deal of restraint not to call and cancel. However, I know this toothache needs to be tended to, so I will do the mature thing and go.
But I won’t be happy about it.
In other less-painful news, the book is nearly complete. My goal is to have all content designed before we move, which means I’ll continue working on it from Knoxville in an editing capacity. It will be tedious but necessary. However, I’m thankful that when the work becomes too tedious and my eyes need a break, I’ll take a seat on the back deck and feast my eyes on the expanse of the Great Smoky Mountains.
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