So I had to make an unscheduled trip to the dentist. I have this long seeded phobia about dentii, so it was only extreme pain and the insistent nagging of my wife that got me to actually go.

The dentist, like our only doctor, only comes to the island on Friday’s, so I duly made an appointment and then borrowed a car from our friends to drive the fifteen miles out of town to the dentist facility.

He seemed like a nice enough man and his secretary/med tech was friendly and warm. I filled out my paper work and told them what was wrong. I also mentioned that due to past experiences, I was scared to death to be here and I needed constant reassurances that they would  not hurt me. I was literally shaking in my boots as I waited to be operated on.

The dentist poked, stabbed, prodded, stabbed and poked some more. It was determined that I need to have a tooth removed and I gave consent.

The torturer (dentist) then injected me with a couple of shots of what ever local anesthetic they use and once I was numb he set to work. Several deep anti-biotic injections later, he deemed me ready for extraction. He grabbed the tooth in question with some sort of vice grip and I felt a twinge. Full on panic mode ensued and I grabbed him by the shirt and said I could still feel what he was doing. He assured me I could not and before I could stop him he ripped my tooth out.

The screams from the room were so bad that no less than three persons in the waiting room ran from the building. Unfortunately, the tooth shattered into three pieces and I had to endure another 5 minutes of torture as the 90 pound med tech struggled to keep me in the chair while the dentist from hell pulled out his full arsenal of medieval torture devices. Eventually the remaining tooth particles were removed and I immediately fled from the office trailing blood in my wake.

I was borderline conscious versus in shock and fortunately for me, long time friend and ex-pat island resident Michelle was in the waiting room and she poured me into my borrowed car and drove me home. Thanks Michelle. For the record, her dad was one of the patients to flee the waiting room.

By the time we reached the dinghy dock I was lucid enough to dinghy back to the mother-ship where Amy took one look at me and poured me into bed.

All dentists need to die. More to follow, end of line …