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Digital Dental Threats

I am slowly becoming dumber.

Right at this moment.

Right as I sit here, I feel brain cells groaning in defeat, falling on my mental floor in a dazed stupor. If this post sucks, I do apologize. Blame my dentist.

I have a dentist appointment in an hour. And by order of my dentist, I am required to take Halcion. I used to get Nitrous. That glorious gas of happiness. I loved the Star Wars-esque mask that they would place over my nose and fill my lungs with peace and noxious lullabies.

That worked for a few years. A few glorious drunk-on-nitrous bi-yearly visits to the dentist. Eventually, my body rebelled against paltry low doses. I started to require higher and higher doses to feel even a smidgen of peace. The high doses left me feeling nauseated for three days at a time. Hard stop on that method.

Now, lest you think I’m a crazy screamer or emotional wreck at the dentist. Let me assure you.

I am not.

I’m more like an adorably vicious dog who bites off fingers and limbs without warning.


My teeth roots are quite exposed and very sensitive. If a hygienist or dentist barely touches them or makes my teeth think they will be handled, I unwillingly launch into full nuclear mode. At the first sense of nervous system pain, my jaw gains 50 lbs in strength and slams shut in a blaze of teeth and yelps.

The dentist, his assistant, and anyone else in the vicinity would turn pale. The blood drained from their masked faces as they quickly examined their hands and digits to ensure that all parts were safe and sound.

After a few visits like that, I got a friendly call from my dental office. They requested that I take some pills before coming next time. They assured me that it would “keep us all safe.” Then they ended with the dagger in the chest.

“Or else we will be unable to see you at our office again.” Her calm receptionist voice had an edge to it. Like maybe she thought I would bite her through the phone.

I got a distinct impression that what she meant to say was

“You are a holy terror. You are the love child of a rabid raccoon and a feral rat. Do not enter our hallowed premises without medicinal restraints.

It seems that alligators and I have a lot in common. Fully sedated dental work is best.


So after the last legible sentence, the drugs hit hard. I remember staring at the keyboard, forgetting what was going on. I remember a voice telling me repeatedly to keep my mouth open, but I have no idea how I got in the chair or who was cleaning my teeth.

I have a vague memory of the dentist saying,

“You have no cavities.”

Then I woke up. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. My appointment was at 9:30. I can’t remember anything else about the day. Freaky.

I’d like to thank my oldest son, Kelsier, for taking me to the dentist and getting me safely home. Apparently, I was a bit of a wanderer, and he needed to guide me about like a sleep-walking kid.

Hurray for good meds that make going to the dentist pass like a dream.


Megan’s Grandma Taylor looked down from heaven shaking her head. She sighed and then looked over at her daughter.

“Annalee, didn’t I teach you that our family is strong during dental visits? I didn’t ever get numbing or drugs during my fillings or other dental work. You just have to be tough.”

Annalee nodded, patting her mom on the shoulder.

“I know, mom, I tried, I really did. But that girl is a biter, like a fanged vampire wear-wolf mix on a rampage. It’s probably best to let her be drugged instead of multiple dentists and hygienists dying young from bite infections.

Grandma nodded and then picked up a glass of lemonade.

“Well, if she’s going to act all stupid about it, then the least we can do is enjoy the show.“ They leaned back in their heavenly hammocks and watched as drugged Megan wobbled around like a tumbleweed in a tornado. Perfect entertainment for a beautiful night in the afterlife.

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