Biting the hand that feeds you

Or at least, the hand that's supposed to be caring for my teeth.

I went to my dentist yesterday. He put his hand in my mouth. I bit him.

It happened like this: I went to the dentist to get a crown. Unlike checkers, getting a crown for a tooth does not indicate skill. I've learned all sorts of new things about crowns - chief among them, crowns are expensive - and I'm not a fan. I am, however, a fan of my dentist, who is good at explaining what he's up to, warning me of bad tastes/noises/smells, and not causing me undue pain.

When we got to the part where he had to take an impression, he walked me through all the techniques for remaining calm and not freaking out when the urge comes over me to gag and freak out. I listened, nodded wisely, and forgot all about it, gagging and freaking out just exactly as I knew I would. Poor dentist. He had his hands in my mouth, holding the impression tray in place, when I began to freak out, so when I bit down, I bit down on his poor skilled fingers. He soothingly talked me through it, I began to calm down, and then he politely asked if I'd mind easing up *just* a little, so he could free his fingers.

For the rest of the morning I had to avoid thinking about it, because it made me giggle. And when the dentist has his hands in your mouth you do not want to giggle. First, because you shouldn't distract anyone with a drill in his hand. Second, giggling in that situation sounds like pig snorts and that's no way to maintain control of yourself.

So. I bit my dentist and spent the rest of the morning trying not to laugh about it.

Mouse update: Too much mouse, not enough landlord. Scheming to reverse that.