I had a cracked tooth that needed rebuilding.

At this office, one is not allowed to sit and calm down by reading about starlets and other Beautiful People in rehab. The dentist came right out, rubbing her hands in glee. (I really was supposed to get this done three years ago.) They got the nitrous mask on right away. Two of the ceiling panels have been replaced with photos of billowy clouds and blue sky. I spent much of the time watching my floaters (an unusually large number) drift by these clouds. Whenever I felt something sharp, I took a deep breath, and thought, ‘That might be hurting, but I sure don’t care.’ There was a whole cabinet of dental tools in my mouth. About halfway through, the dentist got my attention:

Dentist: Why are you watching me?
Me: Awaaa?
Dentist: Your eyes are following me around the room. You’re not supposed to be able to do that.
Me: Ohaaaaa.
(She and the hygienist confer, and make adjustments to the tanks behind me.)
Dentist: There, that should be better. You were out of nitrous.
Me: Ohiiiiaaaa.