P
I bit my dentist. I didn't mean to at all. There I was, in the plastic chair with the plastic wrapped light and all the clean, disposable tools. My dentist (surely named Shirley) leaned over me to adress my sensitive gum problem. I closed my eyes and tried to be good. But with every prick and spray of cold water, I was getting more and more agitated.
Have you ever heard of Pavlov? He was a scientist who would feed his dogs at the sound of a bell. Eventually, the dogs came running in with slobbery smiles for dinner at every ding, even if it wasn't time yet. With ever command she gave me, I was turning in to the dogs.
Open, close, open, close. Open wider, close longer, close, close, close. Open wide- say ahhhhhh! Close, close, look at me, expand jaws, wider, bigger, close, rest. Every time I heard a verb, my brain automatically obeyed.
She was applying antibiotic. I had about four different tools in my mouth, all with a different metallic tastes. My toes were curling inside my bright new Keds. My muscles tensed and my lungs felt like party balloons inflating and deflating inside my tight chest. Pain shot in my jaw, and if I opened the wider, I knew they would dislocate and crack like wishbones from a thanksgiving turkey. I do not like the dentist at all.
And she said the magic words. "I know this is uncomfortable, but calm down and please don't bite me!" My mind followed the command. It disregarded the 'don't' and did what it wanted. Involuntarily, I slammed my jaws down and tasted latex gloves.
"Ouch!" Shirley cried.
I felt guilt, but only a little. If I didn't have so much in my mouth, I wouldn't have reacted so remorsefully. Instead, I would have smiled.
I bit my dentist. I didn't mean to at all. There I was, in the plastic chair with the plastic wrapped light and all the clean, disposable tools. My dentist (surely named Shirley) leaned over me to adress my sensitive gum problem. I closed my eyes and tried to be good. But with every prick and spray of cold water, I was getting more and more agitated.
Have you ever heard of Pavlov? He was a scientist who would feed his dogs at the sound of a bell. Eventually, the dogs came running in with slobbery smiles for dinner at every ding, even if it wasn't time yet. With ever command she gave me, I was turning in to the dogs.
Open, close, open, close. Open wider, close longer, close, close, close. Open wide- say ahhhhhh! Close, close, look at me, expand jaws, wider, bigger, close, rest. Every time I heard a verb, my brain automatically obeyed.
She was applying antibiotic. I had about four different tools in my mouth, all with a different metallic tastes. My toes were curling inside my bright new Keds. My muscles tensed and my lungs felt like party balloons inflating and deflating inside my tight chest. Pain shot in my jaw, and if I opened the wider, I knew they would dislocate and crack like wishbones from a thanksgiving turkey. I do not like the dentist at all.
And she said the magic words. "I know this is uncomfortable, but calm down and please don't bite me!" My mind followed the command. It disregarded the 'don't' and did what it wanted. Involuntarily, I slammed my jaws down and tasted latex gloves.
"Ouch!" Shirley cried.
I felt guilt, but only a little. If I didn't have so much in my mouth, I wouldn't have reacted so remorsefully. Instead, I would have smiled.
