I’m still alive, then. If the long walk from my car to the dental practice was scary, the seemingly endless time spent in the waiting room was worse. My dentist was running ten minutes behind with her appointments, and even though I really didn’t want my name to ever be called, I also didn’t want to keep getting more and more nervous with every passing second. I barely slept a wink last night.
As it turned out, the appointment wasn’t too full of pokey implements. Thank heaven for small mercies. I quickly let it be known (ie. I blathered incoherently) that I was a nervous patient, and specified exactly why I was there (as I explained in yesterday’s blog, an old filling had partially fallen out). After a quick root around my mouth, the dentist took two X-Rays and I sat in the chair waiting for the results. There was a nasty moment where the dental assistant came in and said, “The picture’s totally black!” Oh no! My teeth must all be falling out! But luckily the machine had just cocked up (it had happened a couple of times recently, apparently) and so all the dentist had to do was take another X-Ray.
The results revealed that I did indeed need the offending tooth refilled, but the rest of my mouth was fine. Huzzah! I have a stay of execution until next Wednesday morning, when I have to go in for half an hour for the dentist to cause me pain. To say I’m not looking forward to it is an understatement, but at least I get to have one final nice weekend before I die. I had to pay for next week’s treatment before I left, though. As my wife speculated in the car on the way back, it’s probably because I’m a flight risk.