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Saturday, February 11, 2012

Little Shop of Horrors

Talk about an irrational fear, clowns don’t bother me, zombies and vampires are pansys, but whisper the word dentist and you got my attention.

If I pay good money for someone to hurt me I hope there’s high heeled boots, black leather, a mask and whip involved. My experience with the tooth doctor is pain = money and the amount of services I need is directly correlated to available cash I got or can get.

My nuclear Physicist doctor says I got to have a dental screen before they can apply the charley killing zap rays to my carcass. So I call my favorite dentist, who I see every 10 years, even if I don’t need to, Dr Russell Stover, yeap, just like the candies.

Luckily for me the first available appointment is like 2 months away, that is until I say cancer screen, then it's all like “How about tomorrow at 7:45?” Existing appointments are cancelled, rescheduled and I am shoe horned in. Dr Stover and staff bend over backwards for me. And I hate Dentists. It’s an irrational fear, but it’s mine damn it.

Dr Stover comes up with a treatment plan to get me ready. A bit pricey, but, if this is what I need, so be it. Then, at the last moment, his associate calls in a favor and I get referred to a high dollar, big shot, this sounds expensive, specialist.

I'm pretty sure a high dollar, big shot, this sounds expensive, specialist is.

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