So, this happened about eight or nine years ago, when I was just a wee girl. I had a crown on my back molar, which at the time it had been crowned was still a baby tooth. My dentist noticed that it was not falling out as a normal baby tooth should, and it would require surgery and stitches to get the poor thing out. Now, I had never been a child that was afraid of the dentist, so none of this bothered me. I think I just figured big dental work = big toy out of the toybox! How wrong I was.
So we ( my mother and I) go into the waiting room and announce our presence. I was receiving local anesthesia. First off, the rather abrupt woman at the front desk curtly told my mother that she was not allowed to sit with me during the surgery. Now, this I can understand, but the abrupt nature of the receptionist left my mother a tad pissed off. At any rate, they shuffled me into the room, prepped me, and left me there for about five minutes while waiting for the surgeon.
In he strides, giving me no more greeting than a "harrumph" in my general direction. He proceeds to inform me (in medical terms that I didn't completely understand as a young child - which is comforting) that he would be freezing my mouth with a needle.
Now, at this I must have gotten a fearful look on my face, because the surgeon literally turned around, looked at me, sighed, and waited for a minute. Finally he snaps, "You done?" This just added to my confusion... done what? Done being a little bit afraid at the sight of a giant needle? Thanks, asshole doctor.
He proceeds to freeze my mouth, all the while holding back my tongue with his finger. Now, the freezing process hurt me a little bit, so I whimpered - and accidentally moved my tongue. He then proceeded to accidentally jab my tongue with the needle. He swore and pulled my tongue out of the way again, rather forcefully.
Finally, my mouth was frozen, and he proceeded to work. However, my tooth seemed to be more solidly stuck in there than previously thought. Finally, after scraping around and digging and trying to root the thing out, he seemed to just go for broke. He put his leg up on the chair to brace himself, gripped the tooth with some tool, and pulled as hard as he could. The tooth, of course, did not come out - instead, it cracked in half. He swore again and reached for some other tool.
Now, at this point I was horrified and sobbing. As he went to get the remaining chunk of tooth out, he exclaimed, "Cut it out, Christ!"
So now I was embarrassed, scared, and ashamed. Finally, he got the remainder of the tooth out, stitched me up, and sent me out with nary another word to me. He wrote some sort of prescription for my mother, and she escorted me out to the car, where I proceeded to burst into tears. At that point, I explained to my mother what had happened. Needless to say, she was furious. She told me to wait in the car while she went back into the office.
To this day, she won't tell me exactly what happened in the office - which means, I'm pretty sure, that she completely lost her cool. Good.
Luckily, this experience didn't scare me out of a dentist's office forever. However, looking back on it still makes me cringe. It was a horrible day, and a nasty thing for a child to have to go through.