Under the Influence

Things that I thought about while in the dentist’s chair breathing in that…..exquisite……gas.

“Excuse me. Excuse me! Where can I get some of this gas for everyday life?!?!” I need this!


Cooper was in the chair next to me getting his cavities filled as well. He was fighting the gas and the novacaine a bit and I could hear the hygienist talking to him telling him to lie back and explaining that the gas would make him feel weird. I could feel myself fighting back from the effects of the gas and focusing on what was going on to my left. I even opened my eyes and looked over to his chair. I was even able to tell her to take off his coat and his shoes and he would be a lot more comfortable. That probably got me 5 extra minutes of gas before they started the procedure. “Here is what mother’s instinct is.” I imagined that my “center” was myself sitting in my chair but that there was a veering, a pull, a smearing of my center that followed Cooper to his chair. I looked down and could see my center that was not just encompassing myself but Cooper as well and I thought how am I going to draw this on the blog. “This is what mother’s instinct is…..to me.” I had to revise that as I thought about all the kids that are abused and neglected. This was a downward spiral of negative thoughts about those horrible mothers and those poor, poor children.

“I wonder if tear ducts can suck back in half formed tears.” I don’t know because they didn’t just stay half formed. They were whole tears. Big fat jiggly tears that started rolling down my face.

“Are you ok?,” I hear from somewhere up above.
“Yes.” I nodd. Luckily, it throws me into another train of thought. Is that why dentist’s have the highest rate of suicide in any profession? They don’t ever talk to their patients because they are all asleep or high and when they do finally get out of the chair where they don’t quite remember what has happened –did they drool? Bite his hand? Fart in the chair? Tongue his fingers? -- the patient doesn’t want to look him in the eye for the consult or shake his hand knowing just exactly where his hands have been for his whole professional life. Poor dentists. How sad of a life do they have? Haven’t my tear ducts dried out for the day? Nurse! Suction!

I realize that I need to pull out of it. I am starting to feel nauseous. The swirling has become frenzied. Whoa! I am a penny twirling crazily on the counter for way too long. If I can just topple myself over I can lay flat. Topple! I cry, but for some reason I can’t push myself down without closing my mouth and the dentist keeps saying, “Open, please. “ I am trying to breathe through my open mouth so I can clear my head of the gas. I start composing what I am going to say to Bart if I make it out of this chair.

“Bart, I want you to focus on what I am going to say next. I know you are having a busy day but this is important. I never want you to let me drink because I will be one big soggy, sodden lump of wet tissues. I think you will find that me under control of myself is the best thing for all of us. At all times.” I can hear him laughing out loud.

“Damn, is everything that I compose in my head this good?” With the gas, yes.

I think absolutely infinity everything might be a yes with the gas. How scary.