Why Would You Pick That Profession?

So, I took a little hiatus for a few reasons; first, I was celebrating a one year anniversary with the boyfriend.  B, I was shopping for a new flat screen T.V.  And last, just because.
First thing's first...gratuitous hipstamatic photo of my dog.

My completely unrelated to this story dog.

Now, story time...
I  hate the dentist.  Whatever, everyone hates the dentist, but I REALLY hate the dentist.  Anything having to do with teeth and inside someone's mouth (including my own) is a major panic trigger for me.  I find it absolutely atrocious that anyone would stick their fingers in someone else's mouth on purpose. Needless to say that over the years I have caused some dentist office drama.
When I was about 8 or so, I had to have 2 cavities filled.  I'm not sure if dentistry back then was still in the stone ages or the guy I went to was some sort of child hating dental sadist but he drilled through two of my teeth in two different places.  What I mean is, he drilled up and he drilled into the side...How is it even possible that I had two cavities that big in two different teeth that both required extensive drilling?  He filled four holes in two teeth with whatever that nasty metal is that they used back then, I was traumatized, life moved on.
Fast forward to me in my mid 20's.  I hadn't really had any mouth trouble since the first time and I was never forced to have regular cleanings so my visits to the dentist had been sparse to non-existent.  All of a sudden, my face started to hurt so badly that I felt compelled to have it looked at.  I went to the dentist who promptly told me I needed a root canal...on both sides. I freaked out but scheduled the appointment anyway.  Being the big girl adult that I am, I called my mom and asked her to not only go with me but be in the room during the whole thing.  The closer it got to the day of the surgery the more nervous I became.  I called my mom and told her I was going to cancel the appointment and somehow she talked me out of it.  By the time the actual day came around I was full of Valium, a nervous wreck and vomiting roughly every 30 seconds.  I tried to make a break for it twice from the waiting room before they ever even saw me.  They somehow finally got me to the back.  I'm not really clear on how that happened as at that point I was pretty woozy from the three back to back to back Valium.  The nurse put the spit rag around my neck, laid me back, put spacer thingies in my mouth and told me to relax.  I asked if I could use the restroom and my mom immediately warned them not to let me go.  The nurse ignored her, of course thinking that I was an actual adult, and allowed me to go.  She even helped me get there (again, three Valium).  I thanked her, closed the door and proceeded to lock myself in.  Fifteen minutes later I could hear my mom banging on the door yelling at the nurse that she told her not to let me go.  Eventually, they picked the lock and made me come out.  After they finally wrestled me back into the chair I was promptly administered whatever it is that knocks you completely unconscious. 
That, my friends, is the end of this story, however, I have three post scripts. 
P.S.  My younger sister went into the dental industry.  I'm pretty sure she did it to spite me
P.P.S.  The two root canal teeth are the same two teeth that were traumatized the first time around
P.P.P.S.  That was not the last time I had to have those two teeth worked on