I woke up this morning thinking about if I could just fix my dental issue by super gluing a dry piece of white play-doh where my tooth broke.
I also had a dream this week where they had given me laughing gas, and as the dentist attempted to start working on my tooth, I giggled and smacked his hands away. Even my sub-conscious is trying to get out of this situation.
In addition, it has occurred to me how unjust it is that I'm spending my baby free time being tortured. Can't they give me a mild sedative and prop my mouth open so I can at least take a nap? Or, I wonder if I could sneak into one of their other exam rooms and take a nap post-procedure. I can't really remember if I told my friend how long this whole thing was going to take.
Rationally, I know there is no way around this. And, I'm tired of trying to not smile, laugh, or yawn in an effort for people to not see my dental embarrassment. So, in six hours, I will bravely enter that office, ipod in hand, trembling, sweating and attempting not to cry. Until then, it is a morning of running, cleaning, and taking my mind off all this. I pondered whiskey shots being part of these plans, but 8:00 a.m. seems too early for an appointment with Dr. Jack.