Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

I love my dentist, and it shows. She is very expensive, even for a dentist. She is one of the few dentists in town not covered by Gestapo's dental insurance, so I told them to fuck off and I pay her out of pocket. Sometimes she gives me bills that are two weeks of my pathetic salary, and I pay her, and I go back for more. I love her, because she knows most of my family, is one of the happiest and funniest people on the planet, is super smart and always on the cutting edge of dental technology, and most importantly, she gives me nitrous. Sweet, sweet nitrous. It soothes me, cradles me in its gaseous embrace and says "There, there, everything's going to be OK."

Until this time.

This time was one long déjà vu clusterfuck. I kept wanting to scream "WHY ARE YOU HAVING THIS COVERSATION AGAIN? IS THIS SCRIPTED?" This was impossible, as I had a bite guard wedged into my gaping maw. I considered using hand gestures, but I couldn't risk bumping the drill into my nostril. The other patients had brought in their children. One kid had recently learned "Row Your Boat" at day care, and was stuck on repeat. Even better, he could really only remember "merrily merrily merrily." Coincidentally, my sister came in for a cleaning and brought the youngest three kids. I merely thought I had lost my grip on sanity and was hallucinating family members when I heard my niece jabbering unseen next door, but it was just kismet and no one had told me. My crowning (ha ha!) moments involved me randomly thinking "I miss mommy and F-bomb!" every twenty minutes or so, which would immediately invoke uncontrollable sobbing. I guess crying in front of my dentist wouldn't be so bad, but I had the mask enveloping my nose, a dental dam, and the bite guard thrown into the mix. I think I sounded like a strangled duck with the hiccups.

And I get to do it all again in three weeks.