I expected to spend today lying down, resting while the novacaine/nitrous wore off from having my final stage of root canal. How naive was I?

Let me start by saying that the dentist I saw last week, Dr. W, was a gem. He was kind, sypmathetic, gentle, understanding, patient, and he worked me into a busy day because I sounded frantic on the phone. (Actually credit for that goes to the lovely woman who answered the phone.)

But at the end of the day, he had to refer me to his colleague, Dr L., the endodontic (root canal torture) expert at Backwards Dental Practice.

I had high hopes for my encounter with Dr. L., having had such a good experience with his colleague. I should have expected that something was up when he started getting all his little drills, chisels, and pointy things ready without giving me a shot. I asked, "Will you be giving me one shot or two today? Dr. W. gave me two, and it was perfect. But if you think one will do, that's okay with me too." I was trying to be a proactive patient. I even had my son at home, at the ready to come get me should I need nitrous.

"Oh, we're going to do this today without shots. I find that patients only need shots if they *think* they need shots. Do you think you need shots?"

"You went to dental school. You tell me." Okay, obviously I was a little annoyed by his tone. I was just giving back a little 'tude to even the playing field.

"Well, (cheesehead's first name), this will only hurt if you think ahead of time that it will hurt. If you think it won't, then it won't."

Gee, where have I heard that before? Didn't The Music Man sell instruments to the residents of River City, Iowa using the "think method"?

I've worked in health care. I understand the mind/body connection in pain control. I had two kids without epidurals. I know a little something about pain. But still, I trusted this guy who said it wouldn't hurt. I didn't agree with his attitude, but he had diplomas from a very famous and respected dental school, and a doctor I trusted recommended him. Plus, I hate the waiting afterwards for anesthesia to wear off. I agreed to do it "bareback" so to speak.

I AM AN IDIOT.

Gentle readers, if anyone tries to come at your mouth with sharp pointy things without first numbing you up, put your foot down. It hurt like a bitch.

I know I was feeling quite tense during the worst parts, and that the tension was showing on my face. He stopped once, mid-excavation to ask "Are you okay?"

"No." I replied "Ih huhs" which is dental-dam for "It hurts."

"See, you got yourself all worked up, didn't you? You anticipated that it would hurt,and now it does. There's nothing I can do about that. Just tell yourself that it doesn't hurt, and it will magically go away."

I'm pretty sure that it was the word *magically* that sent me over the edge. I burst into tears. That both humiliated me and made me really, really angry, both at myself and the jerk who was acting like a big paternalistic tool. I was feeling like a big stupid weenie, which I am not. (Remember: 2 kids, 0 epidurals.)

I think it was the vulnerability. I was sitting tilted back with half of my face obscured by rubber, with a paper bib on that contained a bunch of pointy things, and a guy had his hands in my mouth. Not to mention the assistant (I'm sorry I don't know exactly what her title was) who I think could have taken me in a fight.

Anyway, the crying pissed him off. He had to stop long enough to let Helga hand me a tissue. I'm sure that might have cut into his lunch or something. After he finished and all the crap was taken off my face, *while I was still lying tilted towards the floor* he asked me what was wrong with me.

"Could you please move the chair so I'm sitting up?" I asked.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

My ass.

I got up, wrote the check, and left.

Dr L. is a tool.

You heard it here first.