Inside out

What I thought was going to be a typical cleaning turned out to be more than just scraping tartar, a quick floss and an x-ray. As soon as I placed my head in the donut pillow, she laid the lead blanket over my shoulders and chest. But this one felt like an engine block lowered onto my sternum. Before I could spit anything out of my mouth, my wrists and ankles were strapped to the chair. The hygienist smiled at me and purred, "The doctor will be in shortly."

After a few half-breaths, he turned the corner and entered the stark white room wearing a paper face cover and a clear plastic shield over his eyes. His gloves were purple and smelled like grape as he reached into my mouth with forceps. Except he didn't pull out a tooth.

I started gagging as he reached down my throat with those long metal pliers. The gagging was replaced with a jolting pain inside my neck. He started tugging and wiggling and let out a little grunt. As a tiny, mirthful squeal escaped from the hygienist, I felt a grotesque ripping inside my chest.

He stood up from his chair and yanked a little harder. I tried to scream, but instead of sound, my inverted esophagus came out. He gave the clamped forceps to the hygienist and she gleefully tugged while he reached closer to my mouth. "The stomach is the hardest part to pull out," he explained while winking at me. I imagined this was undoubtedly worse than giving birth as the foul smelling gastric juices burned my lips and face on the way out.

He continued to pull the thin strip of tubing that was my small intestine hand over hand. The hygienist walked backwards out the door as my intestines kept coming and coming. It felt like my belly button was being pulled inward by a string, shrinking my abdomen flat. An odd thought crossed my mind: I was glad that I hadn't eaten breakfast this morning before coming.

It seemed like forever that the cord unfurled out of my mouth, until I finally felt a tug on my asshole. The hygienist had just reentered the room after making a grand loop around the office with my GI system. Only the tip of my large intestine peeked past my lips.

The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was the dentist asking me which color toothbrush I wanted.