Bridge Over Troubled Waters

There is this guy that I have been seeing for a few weeks now. Until recently we enjoyed a fabulous relationship, but yesterday he really hurt me, he even made me cry. And the worst part? I'm going back for more.

Rewind.

I'm talking about my dentist.

A few weeks ago I took the Diva for her first dental appointment and she needed two fillings in her front teeth. This magical medical man managed to complete the procedure sans an injection and with minimum discomfort to my little angel.

I was in love!

A week later one of the fillings dislodged and we had to return to McCreamy. Once again The Diva sat still for more than fifteen minutes without so much as a flinch. By now I was head over heels.

I have a missing tooth in the bottom left rear section of my mouth (biltong, yeah really). It has been gone for a few years already but the discomfort has steadily increased to the point where I have to fill the gap. McCreamy's initial advice was for me to receive an implant but by the time he was finished describing the procedure I was deathly pale and my jaw clenched shut. I opted against his recommendation and instead selected option two: a bridge.

Yesterday was preparation for the bridge which involved filing down the adjacent teeth for caps to fit over. Now in order to painlessly drill the enamel you need to anesthetize your patient and for that you need an injection. Now I'm not afraid of needles. I'm not even afraid of needles going in with the intention of drawing something out. I'm so brave I can even handle a jab in the nether regions for a vitamin B12 shot! What I am afraid of is injections in my mouth with that dreadful poison that hurts like hell no matter how many times you rub my gums with strawberry flavoured 'number' (pronounced 'numb-er' not 'number').

I warned McCreamy and informed him that I am nowhere near as brave as The Diva. It was only when the tears were streaming down my cheeks and my white knuckles clenched around the arm of the chair that he heeded my confession. By then it was too late. I was immensely embarrassed and kept my eyes closed for the entire duration of treatment. After my allotted 45 minutes I dazedly scampered out of the electric chair, garbled a slobbery 'shee you nexsht week'; and made my way to the reception where I scheduled my next appointment to receive the bridge (over troubled waters).