It doesn’t take much to see through a doctor’s intentions. Yesterday I sat defenseless on the operation table. My dentist, Dr. Holiday, asked me if I ever had any cavities filled while simultaneously looking down my throat and into my soul. With my eyes raised to heaven, covered only by a pair of $5 Target glasses, I stared directly into the artificial sun.
Dr. Holiday brandished a 6-inch long syringe before forcing my mouth open and placing it inside. Maybe it was my squirming, maybe it was his inexperience, but regardless, he did not insert the syringe fully into my gum. So as Dr. Holiday pressed down on the handle, he released the numbing liquid that spread all over my throat but not near my teeth.
The following 10 minutes consisted of him hacking at my teeth while I stifled the pain of feeling every ounce of the various blades he used. I am a man, a strong man, and like any strong man, I began to cry. Thinking that he would finally catch the hint, all he said was: “I know it can feel a little uncomfortable.”
To date, I have six new unresolved cavities in my mouth. Chewing candy paralyzes my jaw momentarily, and some of my teeth have begun to turn a darkish brown. I no longer smile at the camera.
