Who likes to go the dentist?
Not me! And I like my dentist; he’s been a friend of mine since high school. And he’s good – and gentle – at what he does.
I don’t care how you “dress up” and modernize dental offices and equipment … it’s still like putting makeup on a pig. A total waste of time, I say, to fluff up a torture chamber. It is what it is. And I love all the perky, hands-on dental assistants; they are kind, they are reassuring, they are happy they are not in that chair. Or paying that bill.
I’ve hated going to the dentist since I was six. Dr. Monster Head told my mother I needed to have my front right baby tooth pulled so the big one could come in. The front baby tooth was not ready to come out. MH said to look at his crappy wallpaper and pretend I was watching cartoons. While he yanked and yanked and yanked on the poor little tooth that didn’t want to come out yet. I HATE cartoons to this day because of his bad bs. He finally got the tooth out.
I walked around like a gap-toothed hooligan for a year. Then, my mother dragged me back to his office (there are still skid marks my heels made in his parking lot). Seems that Dr. Stupid S*&t made a mistake. I had no right front tooth. So he designed a clever retainer for me; one that was all pink and shiny and had one fake front tooth on it. Lovely. It plugged the gap, sort of. Couple that weirdo denture with orthopedic high-heeled saddle oxfords x three years and you will know why I wasn’t part of the fast crowd in elementary school. The real tooth finally came in but I am forever scarred. And don’t even get me started on the Tooth Fairy. Meh!
This morning I found myself sitting in the dentist chair. Crown replacement. No frigging diamonds. Paid $5000 (long story) for this crown a couple of years ago. So this replacement was “free”. The staff outfitted me in dark black shades (splatter … barf), noise-blocking headphones (NOT), and put me in a chair position that can only be described as “yogic”.First they needed to make an impression that must have been wet concrete ; when I was told to open my mouth, it almost pulled the rest of my teeth out.
Then came the instruments; so many it looked like silver service for 12. Several professionals were on hand to manipulate all the torture devices. I couldn’t move due to all my accoutrement until I smelled something burning. Oh, that would be inside my mouth. Before I could jump up and run outta there, my phone rang. I could use my hands so I flipped it on and handed it to Dentist Friend. My mother was calling from Colorado to say they were having a wonderful time, my father was getting some oxygen at the moment as he was not taking the altitude so well, but they were having a wonderful time and would be home tomorrow. Lord a mercy, OXYGEN? And they’ve been there a week? I couldn’t talk, of course, so when the story was related to me, all I could do is roll my eyes. Which were invisible behind the black spatter shades.
One and a half hours later, I’m on my way with my faux crown. Which will be relinquished in a month for the real thing. Which means I have to go back. Which, for me, is sheer torture … sort of like pulling teeth.