Women's Auxiliary

Think about that term for a minute.

Wheaten Terrier

I want one of these.

elan vital

I finally decided to get a new night-guard to prevent further damage from my (apparently incessant) nightly tooth-grinding. I've milled the back teeth right down to a smooth shelf, just like someone box-planed those things. I chewed right through the old one, so it's time for the heavy artillery.

As soon as I mustered the $700 for the thing (Delta Dental is not known as a proactive company interested in preventing problems; they'd apparently rather sink their money into expensive treatments) I made an appointment for a fitting.

As the (clearly new to the job) hygienist scooped the sandy amalgam from a large industrial bucket, mixed it with a scoopful of water and stirred it with a spatula like so much abrasive cake batter, she rattled on about her daughter starting school. She filled the metal tray overflowing with the gunky amalgam and placed the form into my mouth.

Immediately as I bit down I knew that the amalgam displaced from the too-full metal form was running down the back of my throat. I started to choke but tried not to panic. Focus, breathe through the nose, she said. It's blocked, I said. "Ith ock." "ITH OCK!" My eyes got wider and I pulled at the metal tab on the front of the thing, trying to dislodge it.

She reached a thumb into the back of my throat and tried to scrape away the excess amalgam. This caused further blockage and panic. I was now leaning forward out of the chair turning red. I can't breathe, I said. Take it out. "I ant eee. Ake it ou!"

I didn't see the white light or anything, but I did think to myself, this is it. I'm going to die right here in this dentist chair, while this stupid broad rattles on about her kid's first day of school. Or worse: I'm one of Those Patients they talk about in front of other patients the next day. "You should have seen this crazy lady we had in here yesterday. I mean, bust out the Valium!" Haw, haw haw.

In the 20 seconds that passed when I couldn't breathe, these were my thoughts. She was telling me she couldn't pull it out since the gunk needed to set. Otherwise the blockage would persist. "Breathe through your nose!" she commanded. It's the same passage, I said, brow wrinkled. "Ith the ame assa!"

Finally she dislodged the tray from my mouth, and I took a huge gulping breath, aspirating the remaining chunks of amalgam, but I didn't care. Oxygen, sweet elixir!

She had to do the impression again since the fucking thing didn't set right, probably due to my impromptu otolaryngological anatomy lesson. The second time she made sure not to fill that thing too full. I could breathe fine and listened intently to her story about her daughter's teacher.

All the while the vaguely minty, green-tinted water swirled contently down the tiny rinsing-sink's drain with a barely perceptible gurgle.