Yesterday I noticed that my filling had come loose, and the last thing I wanted was a dental emergency in Vermont, so I called my amazing dentist who let me come in over the lunch hour. I'm a big fluffy chicken when it comes to such things, but it wasn't tragic.
Before the Novacaine shot, I had a nice dose of laughing gas, which my dentist referred to as "sort of a margarita on the side." It didn't seem to compromise my ability to understand, though.
Not the best way to spend an hour, but again, the timing could've been worse, and definitely, every effort was made to soothe my inner squawker. I also got a good-patient sticker, which I wore proudly all day.
