“You’re joking,” he whispered, scandalized.
The dentist kept a perfectly straight face. “Am I?”
The man looked at the pill in his palm like it had personally betrayed him. “Doctor. I came here to lose a tooth, not my dignity.”
“You said no needles. No gas. Pills were the only option left.”
“Not that kind of pill!”
The dentist finally cracked a grin. “Relax. I’m kidding. It’s just a multivitamin. We don’t usually use Viagra for dental procedures.”
The man exhaled so dramatically it could have powered a wind turbine. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Better than a toothache,” the dentist replied.
For a moment, they both laughed. The tension eased. The patient’s shoulders dropped from around his ears. The dentist could actually feel the anxiety evaporating out of the room, replaced by the warm relief that comes only from humor cutting through fear like a clean, well-sharpened instrument.
But the moment didn’t last long.
“Alright,” Dr. Patel said as he prepared the actual sedation pill. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get the real medication going.”
The patient hesitated. “This one isn’t… you know…”
“No,” the dentist assured. “Strictly medical.”
He took the pill, swallowed it, and waited. And then, as sedation gently settled over him, he began talking. And once he started, he did not stop.
First, he introduced himself fully. Middle name included. Then he shared his traumatic childhood tetanus-shot experience. Then he talked about his ex-wife and how she left because “apparently a fear of syringes isn’t an emotional deal-breaker, but my mother is.” Then he described, in detail, every dream he’d ever had involving dental drills.
The dentist listened with the patience of a saint, nodding at the appropriate intervals, his assistant biting the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing.
Finally, drowsiness overtook him, and the extraction began. It went smoothly. Quick. Clean. Shockingly uneventful considering the drama that preceded it.
When he woke, the dentist handed him the removed tooth in a tiny plastic container.
“You did great,” Dr. Patel said.
The man blinked, groggy but impressed with himself. “I did? I didn’t scream?”
“Nope.”
“I didn’t faint?”
“Nope.”
“Did I say anything embarrassing?”
The dentist shrugged with the diplomatic skill of a man who had survived far worse conversations.
