Going To The Dentist

By the time you read this I may very well be dead. I know I will wish I was dead. It is D-Day; dentist day, that is. An 8 a.m. appointment to have those nasty teeth extracted; the ones that caused me so much trouble two weeks ago. The pain and swelling are gone now and it would be easy to postpone this unsavory little episode. But I am a big boy now (as opposed to a mature, responsible adult. If I were that I wouldn't be in this mess) and I know there will be another morning of torture somewhere down the road.

So I can only prepare for it the best I can. Prepare? Ha! How does one prepare for the dentist. You can't.

It's not the pain that I dread, really. There are ways to deal with that. It is the discomfort and indignity. Lying there supine and helpless with a mouth full of gadgets that, God forbid some terrorist should get his hands on, is not a position of dignity; not that I am any kind of expert on being in a dignified position. But I am fairly well acquainted with being undignified. Writing this column is one example.

And the shot. The idea of enduring pain to avoid pain is an interesting one. I don't really understand it but follow along meekly. I've got a mouthful of gadgets -- I don't have any choice since I can't protest.

Pretty soon parts of my face will feel like they have been blown up like a balloon, a balloon with ice in it. And I will need the world's largest napkin, which the dental assistant has already draped across my body. I don't think it will be big enough. I can't speak and I am drooling like some mad dog. At this point I would confess to anything.

Writing this is not the best way to prepare for the dentist, mind you. I haven't even gone through this yet. I am writing this the day before. But, as I have already stated, since there is no best way to prepare and I am more or less obligated to write this column, I might as well approach it this way.

The only good thing I can think of is that this procedure will take place at 8 a.m. There is no pain killer or anesthetic in the world that can beat the stupor I am in first thing in the morning. Yep, that is the only good thing I can think of.

Next Week: Maybe a new chess column will appear in this space.

George Breithaupt is still a copy editor, photographer and writer for the Mount Vernon News. After going on and on about his teeth, we REALLY hope he never gets hemorrhoids.