When I was young, we were very regular dentist visitors. One of my father's best friends from childhood is a dentist, and his father was a dentist, and his son was, at the time, becoming a dentist. Later in my teen years, "young Matt," the son, became my regular dentist, and he is good. On the couple of occasions when he's had to drill on me, it was like it didn't even happen, and that was even without using Novocaine (needless to say, these were occasions in which he didn't have to drill deep). He's just that excellent with a drill.
When I was about 23, my wisdom teeth came in, of course creating some fairly serious pain for me on a Friday afternoon. I called Matt's office and explained the pain and he said he had been expecting my wisdom teeth to start causing me problems soon, based upon my last X-rays. He called in a script for me and told me to come in Monday morning, which I did. This experience taught me that I cannot take hydrocodone, because I had a horrible reaction to it, so I basically traded out the hydrocode for Jack Daniels for the rest of the weekend.
Monday morning came, and Matt took one look at the X-rays and said that yep, I was going to have to get my wisdom teeth taken out. He set up an appointment for the next afternoon with an oral surgeon, someone whose son I had known in middle school.
Bear ye in mind that I had never had any form of surgery or indeed any medical procedure more intense than a couple of stitches and a splint at this point in my life. I had never been under any form of anesthesia in my life, and honestly I didn't know what to expect, but I put my faith in this oral surgeon to take care of everything and I didn't really worry about it.
In I go to the oral surgeon, I've been NPO for 12 hours, filled out all of the forms, etc., etc. I got up into the chair and they started the IV, and there was the expected "count backwards" business. So I counted backwards and felt myself lifting off the table and everything was supposedly fine.
The paralytic that they administered worked just fine. I was good and paralyzed. The anesthesia that was supposed to put me under .... didn't.
I wound up going through the entire procedure of having my teeth ripped out of my skull while I was wide awake, but paralyzed. I could hear and feel the teeth getting drilled on, then crushed up with a pair of pliers, and then yanked out of my head, each for four teeth. There simply are no words to describe how incredibly horrible that experience was. It's worse than anything I can think of in any horror movie. To this very day, nearly twenty years later, I have nightmares of that incident and wake up screaming about once every two weeks or so.
I've been back to the dentist one time since that experience, and I damn near went homicidal during a 30-minute cleaning. I can't even go in the door of a dentist these days.
That would have me think twice before going to a dentist again also.
I had foot surgery once and they did not use enough local.
I felt the knife hit the bone of my foot....I about kicked the doctor...