After an intensely thorough physical examination by my new doctor and his medical students (see Complete Physical short story), I was rather happy with my choice to settle down in this new town. My job was fulfilling and I could afford to buy a nice little house on the edge of town. The locals were very friendly and seemed to keep their noses out of your business. I liked the nearby walking trails and the clear view of the stars at night.
It was a sunny Saturday morning in early June when I went to see the dentist for the first time. I had a filling fall out a couple of weeks earlier so needed that fixed as well as a routine check up. I was hoping it wasn't going to be a difficult procedure since I had planned to walk around a nearby lake after my appointment. I had dressed for the warm day in a white, short-sleeved cotton blouse and blue wraparound skirt. My bra and thong set was white and new. Who says a big woman can't wear pretty undergarments? There was no need for nylons so I had slipped into a pair of well-worn leather sandals for the comfort I knew they would provide on my walk.
The office was located at the side of a stately older home near the centre of town. As I entered the door, a little bell rang from the top of the door jam. There wasn't anyone around in the tidy little reception area but I heard some rustling from down the hall and a man's voice call out that he would be with me shortly.
I've never been comfortable with dentists. I've had a couple of bad experiences with them before. Plus, I don't seem to freeze very well from the needles. So I was very nervous as I paced the floor waiting for someone to appear.
After a couple of minutes, the man came out to greet me. He introduced himself as Dr. Dave, the dentist. He looked to be about 50 from the grey in his hair and the crinkles at the edge of his eyes. He was a tall man of slender build with pale blue eyes and bushy eyebrows. As I shook his hand, I noticed he had long, thin fingers like those of a pianist. Dr. Dave explained that his dental assistant had called in sick so he was unable to conduct the check up. Apologizing for the inconvenience, he offered to replace the filling, if it was straight forward. Darn, and just when I thought I could get away and enjoy the rest of the day without the weird feeling of having half my face frozen and the pain that usually follows when it disappears.
Dr. Dave could see the disappointment on my face and apologized again for the trouble so I had to tell the nice man that it wasn't the bother that upset me. It was just that I was very fearful of those in his profession and I would be tense and jumpy throughout the procedure. Dr. Dave offered to give me some nitrous oxide, or laughing gas, as it more commonly known. He explained that it relaxes the patient and reduces their anxiety level. It doesn't knock you out and it has no lasting effects so I'd be back to normal just 30 minutes after I stopped using it. That sounded like a godsend to me so I eagerly agreed.
Dr. Dave led me down the hallway to a treatment room. It was the typical dental room – futuristic chair, big light on a massive steel arm, trays with scary-looking instruments, little sink beside the patient chair and pictures of teeth on the walls. After I sat down, the dentist moved the chair back to a reclining position and placed a small rubber cup over my nose. It was attached to tubing and I heard a soft hiss as he opened the valve for the laughing gas to flow. The smell was sickly sweet. He told me that he would be back in a few minutes, after the gas had taken effect.
I lay there breathing in the sweet gas and closed my eyes. Already, I felt myself starting to relax. I drifted for who knows how long. It could have been hours, or seconds. My mind had gone to a nice place and I didn't care whether a tooth was about to be drilled or not. I was so relaxed that I wasn't sure the dentist had returned or if I was dreaming it. He chatted to me as he prepared his tray, asking me if I was happy in his town (to which I nodded, I think), and whether I liked Dr. Jones, the local physician (to which I nodded again, I think). He told me that Dr. Jones had mentioned to him that we had met the week before. He joked that Dr. Jones told him to treat me well since I was a nice lady. I was only half-listening since the gas was still flowing so I smiled at his joke and kept my eyes closed.