Skill with the drill

Returning to the dentist and her scary drill,
a visit on a day that tested my will.

Whiled away an hour, cause she was running late,
a harrowing time spent contemplating my fate.

She wasn’t too happy with my teeth last week,
so off for full X-rays a clearer picture to seek.

Then full of dread waiting to learn the result
Envisioning another painful drill- assault

Like a lamb to the slaughter I’m led to the chair,
Nurse keeps chattering a trick to keep me there.

My Dentist arrives … face mask in place,
I simulate a demeanour of dignity and grace

“Muzz the news is not good so I will be blunt,
a root canal’s needed for that tooth in the front”.

On having the needle, I didn’t utter a peep
I’d just removed myself … pretended to sleep.

A light doze I’ll admit while still being aware,
in a twilight zone far too drugged up to care.

While practicing her craft with talent and might,
she drills and she digs until she gets it just right.

Arose next morning in more pain than before,
with no end in sight there’s still appointments galore.

I gifted this poem, hoping mounting fees to stall,
next visit it’s there framed up on her wall

My catchcry being …we are girls we can do this,
reneging at this stage would be quite remiss

Costs rocketed so high … for this little lot,
reckon I bought my dentist her very own yacht.