NPR and a Root Canal

Never thought you'd see those two gems paired together now did ya.   Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against NPR, all newsy and such.  But there's a time and place.  Lying in the dentist chair with your mouth held open by prying old hands holding deadly weapons is not the time, nor the place.

The unfortunate series of events that led to my needing a root canal is an entirely different saga, which I've had to tell umpteen times and will not be telling here. The fact is, I had to get a root canal on Monday. And it was supposed to be JUST a consultation, until crafty ol' endodontist whom I still do not know his name, decided a root canal was in immediate need.  Fine, whatever, just get it over with.

After several canons of novocaine get blasted into my gums, I'm feeling just fine, minus the open flame next to my head. Maybe the blow torch should have given me a clue I was to be tortured.   I think the worst is over when out of the up until now silent tiny speaker above my head screams "and then I got menopause and started sweating..."  Excuse me?  Who said that?  Ol' crafty says "NPR, never know what you're going to hear."

For the next hour and a half I heard, above the roar of the drill, about radium pellets being shoved up someone's nose to fix headaches and three old guys laughing about the name Virginia Slim.

Survival finally comes into view and I begin to tune back into the conversation happening between Ol' Crafty and his hygienist.  "I can't believe we are required to go to this thing. I mean its on a Saturday..." Ol' crafty wraps ups his work and hygienist takes all the nonsense out of my mouth. "I mean it's from 8-5 and nothing but lectures."

I sit up all woozy like and say "I'd rather have a root canal."