This is about as exciting as my life gets

It seems that the older I get the more aprehensive I get about going to the dentist. One would think that it would be the other way around, but I guess not.

I was no stranger to the dentist when I was little. I inherited a disorder from my mother that made all my baby teeth emerge already rotten from my gums so the majority of my teeth at any given time were enamel veneers. They used to get chipped and broken and they used to fall off, and my awful rotten teeth used to get cavities really easily so I found myself in the chair quite often.

Can't remember a single time when I was scared about going to the dentist. I mean, I always got a new toothbrush and a toy and I could choose between eight different flavours of flouride. Going to the dentist always gave me the chance at having the satisfaction of being able to bug my sister about how I was on the cavity-free wall and she wasn't. The only downside was that I would be forced to not eat anything for an hour and that of course would make me so malnourished that I'd be forced to stare death in the face. Death and the clock.

So why have things changed? I honestly don't know.

About three or four months ago I had a filling fall out and the tooth got really sore. That was about the same time that the dentist's office started leaving messages on my voicemail wanting me to make an appointment for a checkup. Not able to reach me, they called my mother, who told me I should make an appointment and then she gave the dentist's office my landline number too, where they started leaving messages as well.

A rational person would likely consider the following:
I obviously needed dental work and my tooth was causing me discomfort.
My dentist obviously wanted to see me.
My mother wanted me to see the dentist.
It costs absolutely nothing for me to get dental work done.

Why did I not go then? Beats me.

The appointment went well until he ground the shit out of something and hit a nerve. I thought I'd let him know by squirming around in the chair. He was so pleased that I had let him know of the sudden sharp pain I was feeling in my mouth that he decided to shove one of those big, scary looking needles in there along with everything else.

My mom doesn't have any teeth. Sometimes I think it would be better that way.