Drills, root canals and alone time

There's nothing pleasant about going to the dentist. Nothing. Not unless you're a masochist. And, well, not unless going to the dentist means you'll have 1. 5 hours of *alone* time. I am no masochist, but sitting there in that chair while the dentist inflicted pain on my gums might classify me as one because for that hour or so, I could relax. Sort of. I could think. Sort of. I could chat uninterrupted. Sort of. I could quietly gather my thoughts. Sort of. I say sort of, because amidst all the sounds of drills and grinding and poking and prodding, I was able to do all those things. I did them all while clenching my hands together as tightly as possible when the dentist turned on that horrible sounding device that would carve out my filling. There's just something not right about the sound of those things. How I sat through endless fillings as a kid, I will never know.

This was not a pleasant visit to the dentist. I had long avoided going for this particular visit because, 1) there would be some "exploratory" work done and 2) the outcome could mean a root canal. So as the dentist explained that he would have to see if my nerve was exposed *shriek*, it was a total bittersweet moment. Bitter because the thought of removing said nerve made me want to pass out and vomit -and sweet because, I was having some alone time. If having *alone* time means suffering in pain at the dentist, then so be it. I'll take what I can get.

The visit ended well. My filling was carved out and all looked good below. No root canal needed. Amen to that. Even though a root canal would have meant several more appointments, I think I'll pass on those particular *alone* times.