Shannon Costello

I have just returned from the dentist.

I dreaded my visit there. There’s an awareness in the back of my mind that terrible things are to come. My dread increased when they mentioned novicane. Oh no, please, not the shot! Anything but the shot!

At times like these there are two mental paths open to me. I can dwell on terrifying thoughts of large forbidding needles with the light glinting off their metallic points, and thoughts of pain as the needle pierces my jaw. This is the path to madness.

Or I can force my mind to sort of slide past contemplation of the facts and their ominous implications and think about something else. I forced my eyes to look away…up at the ceiling, where the standard dental propaganda encouraged me to think not just on clean teeth, but on white teeth. Not just clean…white! Not just clean…white! I frantically repeated the slogan. Every now and then I remembered to breathe. Twice they put the needle in. Its “tiny pinches” take on a dreadful enormity when one is helpless, flat on one’s back in a sinister red dentist’s chair. The drilling wasn’t much better than the needle. I don’t think it helped when the dentist said things like, “I’m drilling deeper now…raise your left hand if I need to stop.” Left hand. Left hand. Does she need to stop? No…this isn’t pain…is it? IS IT? Breathe…

After intense negotiations, I was placed on probation and released. I report back in February for cleaning.