THE FEAR OF THE DRILL

I stared at the book on my lap with unseeing eyes. In weather that claimed to be 8 degrees, my palms were sweating. As I shrugged out of my jacket, I glanced around the room. Eight other people stared blankly around the tiny waiting area, some at the floor, a couple blankly into space, and an old man right at me. His deadpan expression scared me as I realised he was looking not at me, but right through me. Such was the fear of The Dentist Man.

The only other time I'd ever been to one was when I was a tiny brat who refused to remove her milk teeth, and had to go through four injections to attain her first toothless gap. He was the monster, the devil, Satan in a white smock! I was told that this one was different, he was a kind old soul with twinkling eyes and the softest voice, one who tried not to let the glint stainless steel feel like mortal peril..

People walked in and then walked out. I noticed- never a smiling face either time. Why was I subjecting myself to this? My molar had ached only for a few days a short while ago. I'd even scrubbed my teeth vigorously for twenty minutes before leaving the house, they felt clean and healthy in my head. They would have twinkled, sparkled and grinned toothily at me if they could have.

Jerked out of my reverie as my name was called, I walked in, dragging my feet. Three huge black chairs, multiple overhead lights, innumerable shiny death weapons, and one meek sacrificial lamb. I turned to look for Satanas, and was taken aback. This was him? This tiny, grey eyed, wizened little thing? Expressionless, though. Ah, the Sheep's Smock, I concluded.

Nervously, I introduced myself and confided that I was scared, I'd never been in a dentist's chair in so many years. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, smiling. I told him. He could have anything he wanted as long as he didn't hurt me. "Open your mouth, please." I could see over the bridge of my nose that he had something in those slender, suddenly cruel, fingers. His eyes narrowed as he peered inside. I could feel the cold steel poking and prodding, checking here, and checking there.

After five unbearable minutes, he snapped the overhead light off, and said, "My girl, you can stop peeling the upholstery off my chair. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your teeth, they're in perfect shape." Eh? EH?! Then it sank in. My teeth were fine! He wouldn't taking the whirring instrument and treat me like a wall that required patchwork! He was such a dear old man, my angel from the heavens above!

I skipped out of the room and grinned at everybody. A smiling face was required, once in a way. The poor old man's reputation as a human was at stake.

Sometimes, I say, judge a book by its cover.. and and a kindly sheep by its wool :)