Teetering on the brink of dental chaos

Well, it's Monday morning (or afternoon or something), and I just got back from the dentist. If you've been reading my blog for a while, then you know that I don't do well with minor medical procedures. I tend to get a little hysterical. But today I held it together pretty well.
I showed up right on time, and the receptionist was sooo nice. She said, "You brought the sunshine with you, didn't you?" I said, "You're only being so nice because you know I'm going to die."
They whizzed me right back to get started, and my dentist, who is the nicest guy (he sorta looks like Captain Stubing) said, "Katie! How are you doing today?" See, this is where it comes in handy that Jon is a doctor. I know how to talk to these guys. "Your mother called THREE times last night," I said, "and when you drop your pants on the floor I have no way of knowing if they're clean or dirty." Then I knew he knew I knew we were all on the same page. Good.
He laid me back in the chair, and I'd hoped to emotionally go somewhere else during the procedure, but instead I stayed right there on my 2nd molar lingual side, watching like the whole thing front and center, hearing the whizzing and burring and picking and spraying and scraping and drillllling. Ugh.
Last time I was there, they had the satellite radio set to 80s alt songs, which I loved. This time it was yacht rock. Carly Simon. Stevie Nicks. So I imagined that my mom was with me. I swear I could feel her hand in mine, and I tried to channel her stoic, Southern strength. Unfortunately, my mom isn't with me. She's at her condo in Dallas.
Fortunately, though, Elton John came on, and everyone knows that when Elton John comes on, you have to sing. Full. Volume. So everybody stopped, and we all sang.
"Boo Jean Baby
Ew Way Wady
Eamstress foh da baaaand"
The anesthesia really helped my pitch, and the bright dental exam light in my face made me feel like I was on stage. It was sooo fun! So fun that I can't even remember if everyone else was singing, too.
"Bah Wu WeenUH!
Ooh Musta SeenUh"
Anyway, that was really the high point. After that Billy Joel came on so I just made raspberry noises to register my opinion. And by that time my neck was getting really sore, and I'd jammed my thumbnails through my palms, and my lips and cheeks were so dry that it felt like Captain Stubing had contact cemented them to his latex gloves. Not much fun from that point on.
Then the dental assistant was squirting something really loud, and she and Stubing started talking, something about how hungry they were and nightcrawlers for lunch. What? Nightcrawlers? Oh my god. They're Keiffer Sutherland vampires!
The last song I remember was Michael McDonald, so I relaxed. Stubing stuck some dental floss between my molars to make sure it fit, and I said, "Oh, don't worry about that. I don't floss, hahaha, that's what a fool believes, Dr. Stubing, what a fool belieeeeves! Wise man has the powah!" 
I was so happy to get home. Jon was here, and I knew he'd take care of me. Instead, he made me watch recorded episodes of 30 Rock and when I tried to smile, he laughed and pointed at my face. "You look like a stroke victim."

So not funny.