Lalalalalala

I wriggled my toes, focused on softening my shoulders and tried to regulate my breathing. But I still found it difficult to totally relax as the dentist pierced my gum four times with his long, thin hypodermic needle. This thing was longer than my (quite long) hand. It glistened.

After the trauma of my recent tooth extraction and ensuing infection and disgusting antibiotic treatment, I can't say I was terribly eager to visit the dentist, who is a nice chap, but not one you want to see too often, especially when he has metal implements to hand. Anyway, it was OK. The process was uncomplicated enough but the noises rendered the simplicity complicated.

I wondered what I was meant to be thinking of as he prodded, poked, bleeped, crunched and, of course, drilled. I started by thinking about people who can withstand surgery thanks to their strong minds alone, eschewing anaesthetic, the crazies. It didn't help that the words driller killer ran through my head. That started images of hydraulic drills used by people who dig roads. Road diggers. That wasn't helpful.

Once the fillings were in place, I wiped my seemingly nerveless face with a couple of tissues, my mouth drooping slightly, paid and left. My next visit will be to the hygienist. Surely that will not involve blood and needles. Hmm.