I don't know what the hell she's doing, but it certainly doesn't sound good.
The lamp shines into my face, the right side of which has dissolved. My tongue lies double, parched, in the back of my mouth restricted by a green rubber mat, clamped and stretched over my molar, a hole cut into it to let me breathe.
I jump at unexpected pressure within my mouth and my hands, clasped tightly on my lap, now grab the side of my jeans.
"Are you alright?" she asks. "uuuuh" I say.
I must relax. There is no pain.
I breathe as deeply as possible through my nose, which comes out again as a hiss, and force my shoulders down for a few seconds before they scrunch up again. She has picked up a new drill, bigger it seems. And she has stopped explaining what she is doing.
This cannot be good.
The sound intensifies, right next to my ear. And I smell something burning. She must be reaching the nerve soon. I imagine her drilling through the tooth and suddenly breaking through to a soft center.
I am bracing for impact.
My eyes roam upwards towards my dentist. Our eyes meet for an awkward second. Quickly I return my gaze to the ceiling tiles with a black spot in the right hand corner, before I swerve my eyes further along to the window. I only see the top of the window and a triangle of blue.
Air from a large rotating fan in the corner moves quite fiercely towards us. My dentist is experiencing hot flashes, she says. If I want a blanket I should just give a shout.
I just want it all to stop. Is it not finished now?
Why did I decide to go for a gold filling and not just stick to metal alloy? I will be a gold toothed woman.
My dentist has started talking again, after I jolt one more time. She has Ukranian patients she says, who refuse any kind of anesthesia. Even their kids come here and don't give an inch when she drills their teeth. Isn't that unbelievable?
Proud relaxed owner of a gold tooth inlay.