To say I am not a fan of going to the dentist is the best example of an understatement that there is. In fact, to be brutally honest, I hate it.
My animosity towards the dental profession goes back to childhood, where most adult crippling situations occur. I had a dentist, that I will call Dr. Evil for lack of a wittier name. He was mean and rough and likely should have retired years before I met him.
I remember his office like it was yesterday, even though I was a little kid. My last visit there was with my dad. I'm not sure why my dad took me, as Dr. visits usually fell into mom territory. I remember my dad being aggravated with me because I was whining and begging not to go. Like many things with kids, my parents didn't grasp how much I truly disliked this man - that it just wasn't a kid not wanting to go to the Dr.
Anyway, I remember fighting every step of the way into the office. I actually stuck my arms and legs out, grasping the door frame for dear life. I think a nurse even tugged off my shoe trying to get me through the door. Dr. Evil was not amused. I remember him huffing at me as the nurse tossed me into the chair. His exact words to me were, "When I'm done with you, you will have something to cry about."
I blasted out of that chair, crawling through the legs of a nurse, under a desk and back into the waiting room. I was screeching like a howler monkey at my dad, hiding behind him. Once I told my dad what had happened, he sat me in the chair and said, "I'll be back."
I remember hearing commotion and then my dad coming out and taking me out for ice cream and putt putt.
That was the start of my dental drama. I had one dentist that tried to drill my tooth without Novocaine. I had another that wanted to pull a wisdom tooth...when I didn't have a wisdom tooth in yet. Thankfully, I have a good dentist now, but still, I would much rather cheer for Pittsburgh than go to the dentist.
Well...maybe not cheer for Pittsburgh...