Dentist day

My school did a field trip to the dentist one year. I started school in a small town, so I guess there were limited options. It was February so the pool was closed and the pool hall wouldn't let that many minors in without some sort of fake ID.

None of us had been to the dentist before. This was back in the day when all dentistry was offered at the schools - all costs included. It was the first year most of us would start the annual trip to the meanest people on earth dentist. They wanted to tour us around the offices so we would not be afraid. Knowledge is power. Or, so says the memo.

Upon entering the building, I remember noticing the smell. It took me back a step. I know know it to be fluoride. At the time it was unidentifiable -- overly sweet smelling and yet acidic. My stomach rolled. We walked through the sterile rooms and saw patients sitting in weird leaning chairs with their mouths open wide. I heard the sounds of water, the swishing and spitting, the clacking of tools, the chatter of assistants, and the mumbling replies of patients.

Then I heard the drill. A soft buzz that zooms quickly into a full blown "ZEEEEEEEEEEEEE" noise as it grated against tooth. I turned. I tried to explain to someone what was happening, but the sound of the drill overcame me. It was all I could hear.

Finally, the sound subsided and I was able to hear two other things - gasps and giggles. I had thrown up all over the floor and myself. A technician whisked me outside while my teacher called home. I sat on the cement, with my head between my knees, holding onto my goody bag full of floss and a toothbrush.

They called a cab to take me home. To this day, I get nauseated when I hear the sound of the dentist drill.