"Nrrrrrrrrrrrrg. GLACK!" I said, frantically waiving my right hand like a drowning man.

"Oh, are you okay?" She asked, completely oblivious. Fortunately, she had the insight to take a break from shoving 2" needles up into my gums.

"Gah-GUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh, do you want some suction?"

No, of course not. I'm completely enjoying the feeling of bitter isopropyl alcohol pooling in my throat. And since you have me at a 45° angle toward the floor, my nasal passages are completely blocked.

When was the last time someone died in the chair at the endodontist's office?