Not a chance.
I had to go back again today. I brought my MP3 player to drown out the noise. They used the local numb-er, then busted out the shots. I thought I was prepared. By the fourth poke I was ready to bolt, and I must have looked like it. The dentist and hygenist both looked at me and asked if I was okay. When I told them I wanted to run, they didn't hesitate.
"Maybe you'd like some nitrous oxide." Thank you Lord for the happy gas!
I can't tell you how close I was to a panic attack. I was one prod away from leaving with a numb face and unfilled cavities. My shoulders were tense, my knees locked, and I was sweating uncontrollably. It was pretty awful.
But then they gassed me.
I don't remember much past that, and that's the way I like it. Everything blurred blessedly together. It was a happy time.
And when I got up to leave I saw the four year-old boy in the cubicle next to me...with his own little baby happy-gas-mask. You know, I'm okay with that.