I had my first serious dental operation yesterday, it was a devitalization, they needed to kill one of my teeth because it got infected. I was scared af before goijng there (you know, I was, until yesterday, very phobic of the dentist) I sat, they anesthesized half my mouth and proceeded with the operation. It lasted two almost uninterrupted hours, they put some kind of hooks, syringes and other stuff inside my tooth (and obviously they used the Drill) then they closed it all with some kind of molten wax. God, Allah, historic materialism or whoever rules this world bless whoever invented anesthesia, I can’t even imagine how much it would have hurt without it.
I used to hate going to the dentist. I remember one appointment that I had a decade ago where they performed three procedures on me within one day and I must have been in that seat for more than six hours (maybe even ten). All that I could do was think of my lover as the agony went on and on, with no end in sight.
It was several years after that day that I finally let go of my dread. In fact, sometimes I actually rather enjoy revisiting the dentist: it gives me a good reason to get out of the house, express my sense of humor and listen to some good music. I can’t help but laugh when a dentist handles something that vibrates my mouth, which impresses them.
I’m not joking when I saw that watching a movie scene—specifically the sex scene in The Room—still causes me greater discomfort than being at the dentist. That’s how far I’ve come.