you know you don't have a life if...

you know you're social life is pathetic when your late-afternoon dentist appointment feels like a nice night out. Today was my third visit there to finish up a root-canal, which is still not done.
Today, you won't feel any pain, he said.
Let's see about that, I responded.
Trust me, he said.

And this coming from a dentist who at my last visit had almost injected me at the wrong side to work on the wrong tooth. My dentist is so comfortable with me (I don't know, I seem to bring it out in some people), that he constantly goes about other business while he is working on me (eg. talk on the phone, walk out to have a staff meeting, figure out his taxes, etc. etc.). The last time, somebody had made him really angry over the phone, and this is when he tried to inject me on the wrong side ...twice.
Fantastic, I thought, it took me two years to overcome my trauma from my last visit here and make an appointment, and then I get this. An angry dentist with an oversized syringe in his hand.

Of course, my experience with nitrous oxide, which I thought might take the edge off, was an abnormal one as well. Just before the dentist left the room after having placed the laughing gas mask on my face, he tells me "Ooone percent of the population reacts to this gas with an anxiety attack, so let me know if all is ok."
Great, why are you walking out the room then? How am I going to let you know? I thought.
I suppose, you know where this story is going: I apparently belong to this odd 1% of the population. I guess, being the control freak that I am I just couldn't handle the fact that I started to lose control over my body. And before I knew it, I couldn't breath anymore, I couldn't open my eyes, I couldn't speak....I was going into panic mode.With all the rational I could build up I tore myself out of my clouded mind for an instant and raised my hand, which thankfully the dental assistant happened to notice as she was passing by.

As you can see the dentist's office is not the place for me to be.In addition to my bad experiences I seem to also have a very high tolerance for anesthetics, for I am usually still sensitive even after 3 or 4 shots.
I can't believe you still feel that, the dentist kept repeating as I was tearing the chair's leather armrest with my fingernails.

Nevertheless, after I was out of the office, my tooth throbbing with numb pain, I walked down 72nd Street and truly enjoyed my "night" out on the town. I say "night" because it took the man until 8.30pm to finish up. Once I realized how pathetic this thought was, nice late-summer evening atmosphere or not, I decided that I really need to work more actively on my social schedule.