Since I had a bad experience with the woman dentist and she was going to be busy anyway (Halloween), I demanded a new dentist and got one.
Taking me into the examining room and after a few x-rays, this nice woman introduces herself as my ‘dental hygienist,’
Still I sat in the barber’s chair, she swings over her little dish with the instruments and I open my mouth. It has been some time since a woman asked ME, to open my mouth.
No Novocain, she began to pick up her tools with the aplomb of a Parkinson’s patient and… PARKINSON’S PATIENT!
Hovering over me, her hand danced, little shivers that swayed back and forth, the metal prick that she held in her hand, catching sparkling flashes from the overhead lamp.
Suddenly. Harvey Korman and Tim Conway immediately came to mind! Her head started to quiver, and down my throat, she went once more. Pricking the gums: chips of tartar and big blocks of teeth, flying across my face.
As I rinsed my mouth, big clots of blood spilled out, starting to clog the little drain in the spit sink.
“Blood, there is a lot of blood!” I cried.
“Yes, a LOT of blood!” she quivered.
Please remember my pals Joan and Anita.
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