Thanks A LOT England

(First and foremost I would like to dedicate this to Mr. Davies. I just don’t want him to think I'm recycling his ideas.)
Within the first few days I was in England, my gums began to bleed profusely every time I brushed my teeth. Now, normally an occasional gum bleed doesn’t bother me, as I am prone to gingivitis. However, coupled with panic attacks, resilient gum bleeds freaked me out.
This past Monday, I went to the dentist for a routine cleaning. I hadn’t been in over a year, but I had missed appointments in the past, so I wasn’t too bothered. The woman who was going to be painfully scraping away at my teeth was Cindy. She is just as lovely and innocent as her name suggests. She has been my “cleaner” for most of my life. I have been seeing the same dentists, care of Dr. Wise and his harem, since my teeth needed dental attention. I honestly think at this point it would be quite traumatic to see anyone else. Cindy and I have a personal history dating back to the time she caused me such great pain with a sealant procedure, that I had to reschedule. Let's just say she knows my pain tolerance.
I sat down in the automatic reclining chair, as usual, and leaned back. Then I said, “Now, just to warn you, I was away in London for a few months. Nearly every time I brushed my teeth they would bleed. I was told it was the hard water.” Cindy looked at me with a squint of confusion, “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” “Oh, well, my gums are a little sensitive, so… well you’ll see.” I responded, sharply.
She proceeded, adorned in a mask and dorky “dentist style ray bans,” targeting the blinding light on my teeth. She used that tiny mirror tool, along with the metal pick, and poked around. She pulled away. “Ok, so we’re going to have to change plans. Your gums are crowded by bacteria. They are incredibly inflamed. You have a history of Periodontal Disease in your family. I'm going to have to get all that bacteria out of there.”
So it began. Perhaps the most bloody and painful dental experience of my life. There she stood over my head, like a haunting silhouette, glistening pick in hand. At the time, a very frightening image. She toiled with the pick, then decided to move on to an ultra sonic water cleaner. What I thought would be more gentle, was FAR more painful. Frozen in my seat with pain, The Beatles “Something” (one of my favorites) played. I tried to ignore it in an effort to disassociate it with this experience. But I couldn’t. It was the only thing to distract me. Every so often she would tell me to rinse in spit. The amount of blood pouring from my mouth reminded me of Edward Norton’s lesson about swallowing a pint of blood in Fight Club. If I smiled, I would bare blood stained teeth. For a moment I caught my reflection in the glass covering the obnoxiously ugly painting to my left. She had given me a similar pair of glasses that she was wearing, in an effort to shield my eyes from the water. I looked like a special needs Terminator.
In the end, my mouth was sore, but my gums were better off for it. I feel fine today, but because of my wretched experience, I would like to thank England for fulfilling its most near and dear stereotype. I would also like to thank Cindy for giving me a Halloween costume idea. Murderous Dentist will be a hit!