Emergency Room told me: "Eat a pickle."

   
   "Emergency Room told me:  "Eat a pickle."
    
   Years before, dandy dentist said:  "No need to worry about it."
   Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Oral Surgeons and Dentists, totally.  Next, big lump in my throat, speeding like a mercurial madman in a mini-van, one of 'em toaster vans, thinking my breathing would be cut off.  Then, Emergency Room Doc says:  "Eat a pickle."  They sent me home.
   It happened--removal of saliva duct stone.  An Internal Medicine Physician I've known for years, him fully aware I have OCD, immediately sent me to an Oral Surgeon.  It was a showdown in my oral cavity's corral.  Was Doc Holliday there?  I needed some whiskey.  Shot of Lidocaine-like substance; next, Doc and Nurse went in with sharp tools, glistening with soon-to-be gore.  
   I was just looking at the ceiling, trying not to make eye contact.  Doc was telling Nurse about his vacation.  Took about twenty minutes--he was having trouble getting a grip; then--he got it!!! 
   Dropped it in a little, metallic bowel the Nurse was cupping underneath her hands, as if holding the Blood of Christ--she did it with theological, not surgical precision.  It made a little "ding" sound.  

Post Script:  God Bless Nancy Reagan, and--for believing in things beyond.  There is Truth.