The Dentist

Paquita Gutiérrez was terrified of dentists. For a few days now, she has been tortured by a tooth. At first she hoped it would just pass, then she tried every painkiller in the medicine cabinet. After 3 days, she went to Carmen, her neighbor who did talk therapy. After 5 days, and because she could stand it no longer, she made an appointment with the eminent dentist, Doctor Salomon Mimran, whose reputation was the talk of Paris. Paquita, her jaw disfigured by a huge abscess, sat down in the dental chair as if it were the electric chair. “Octor, is ut zer doe?” asked Paquita, her words distorted by the inflammation. “No ma’am, you won’t feel a thing,” lied the doctor, “you are in good hands. Let’s take a look, open it up and we’ll look at this inflamed molar. “Ehh….is already open” said Madame Gutiérrez. On the fourth injection, the anesthesia began to take effect.

She had the impression that her tongue was a piece of rag. She wanted to say something, but could only utter guttural sounds. The doctor thought it would be easy, but when the second forceps broke in his hands, he began to have doubts. “Relax, everything is fine,” the doctor lied again as he put his foot on his patient’s left shoulder to get better leverage. Paquita Gutiérrez regretted not making her will. After 40 minutes of struggling, and after a superhuman effort, the doctor managed to pull the rebel tooth. With pride, he studied it intently and began to feel drops of sweat trickling down his neck. “Let’s see, open …” said the doctor who shuddered when he saw that the tooth he held in his forceps was a front tooth in perfect health.

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