Date: Thu, 11 Jun 1998 13:03:41 -0700
Subject: Re: Fun with Dentistry
This is a great subject for a story ...
I checked in at the receptionist desk and confirmed my 11:00 o'clock appointment for my root canal. As I sat in the waiting area I could hear the whine of the dentist drill in the background and the agonizing screams of the patient who was obviously on the business end of that drill. I began to worry that the dentist would not use enought novocane, gas, and straps (!) to keep me in the chair long enough for the root canal.
Soon, the dental assistant called my name and I slowly walked down the neverending hall to the dental chair. I imagined that my name was stenciled on the chair. The look of glee on the assistant's face was almost too much to handle. Oh, how she must love this job!
Shortly, the dentist came in. He was a short little fat man who obviously liked the drill just a little too much. The only positive was that in the background I could hear the stereo playing and it sounded like they had GFR on. Well, how bad could it be ... I would soon find out.
The doctor (and I use that term loosely) asked if I would prefer "happy juice" or "gas." I said, "Gimme both, Doc". He said okay and measured out two ampules of novocane and wheeled over the nitrous-oxide tanks. "Okay", he grinned, "Open wide ... you're going to feel a little pinch." OOOUCHH, (the asshole!).
I started to relax a little as the novocane surged into my gums. I almost immediately began to feel numb as the shots began to take effect. Next, he hooked up the gas tanks. He hooked these octopus looking tubes into my nose and turned a valve on the tank. I could hear a faint "wooosh" as the gas entered my lungs, while at the same time the GFR music in the background seemed to increase in volume.
While this was going on the Dentist was making small talk. He asked me if I knew who the band was playing in the background ... I said, "You mean ZZ TOP?" as the familiar opening of "were an American Band" was coming over the speakers. I giggled uncontrolably as I began to sing the lyrics to it ... "On the roadkill for 40 days, last night in Little Rock, Cows started to graze!" HHHEEEEEEE. Unknown to me the gas was really starting to affect me. Of course, the dentist couldn't understand anything I said because the novocane had deadened my mouth and I was slobbering all over myself.
The doctor began the procedure. As I looked up at him, I realized that the dentist was Don Brewer. When did HE make a career change? Well, it's okay, he's not using a drill, he's sticking a drum stick into my mouth ... A DRUMSTICK?!? ... heheheheheeeehhheeeee. I began singing again ... "Walk like a duck, and quack like a duck, walk like a duck, you must call me to pluck." Hhhooooooooooooooo! (Love that gas!)
The doctor, who I now refered to a Doctor Don was not really paying any attention to my singing (luckily) and was really working over my molar, but I DIDN'T CARE! Bring it on, baby!! By the way, gimme a little more gas, will ya'? The dental assistant turned up the gas a little. I wondered where the other assistant had gone, because the person turning up the gas looked a lot like Sunny Quinn.
Gee, this halucination was getting better all the time! I slobbered, "Hi Sunny, when did you get in?" The assistant just looked at me strangely and laughed, "It's time to really start rocking!" She then tied my arms down to the dentist chair with some leather straps. Man, this was really getting wierd! Doctor Don had traded in the drumstick for a hammer and chisel and was really going to town on my jaw ... "could you turn up the gas, just a teenie weenie bit more" I began to sing again ..."Drillin', Spillin'. Gonna get more baby when I'm done ... "
The whole ordeal must have taken over an hour. After the procedure they disconected the gas. As I returned to reality I began to understand the entire thing. And man, did I have a headache!
Jim's a good mans brother