At least he didn't saw off your finger with a hacksaw. Whew!
I wasn't too happy about the whole situation, but I guess I knew he did dental surgery (he was one of those old-fashioned dentists who did everything), so I must have trusted him.
There's just an itty bitty vertical scar on that finger to remind me of my trauma.
I remember that I yelled to my younger sister as I was running home from the woods that the skin on my finger came off, and she thought I said that my finger came off.
It was quite an adventure. ^-^