Dentist!

Some people can’t open their mouth very wide.  Some people hate the sound of drills.  Some people hate fresh breath (you know who you are).  I have none of these problems – I love the dentist!

Since I was a kid, I loved the feeling of getting my teeth cleaned.  The grit of the flavored polish (strawberry or coconut… anything but bubblegum) between my teeth left me giddy for days.  The burning sensation of the fluoride rinse – even after 45 seconds of swishing – was the part I most looked forward to.  As I left the dentist, I would always grab as many toys as I could out of the kangaroo pouch (usually about three, which frequently included a bouncy ball, stickers, and one of those gummy spiders you could throw against the wall and it would slowly fall down.  Those things are so cool!  Anyone know where I can find one?).

Perhaps my love for the dentist is only because I am fortunate enough to have never needed braces, have had only one cavity (when I was 17 and old enough not to be traumatized), and went to a dentist with bird and fish mobiles hanging from the ceiling.  It might also be that I just prefer strange things and always have – spinach over chocolate; tofu over hamburgers; and the Disney channel over something more age appropriate (for a 30 year old). 

Needless to say, when I made my first dentist appointment in New York, I couldn’t wait.  Since everything in New York is more expensive than anywhere else, I have been holding off on the dentist.  A Groupon came out and for $36 I bought a cleaning, exam, and x-rays.  The second I bought it – before the deal was even closed – I called and booked the next appointment.  I waited for a week, and yesterday was the day I finally got to go!

I arrived anticipating running my tongue over completely plaque-free pearly-whites.  The office was small and cramped, but most places in New York are.  After waiting nearly 30 min (don’t they know I bill every 6 min of my time?) I got to sit down in the chair!  I put up with the x-rays until the dentist finally came in.  She was young and was happy to answer all of my questions.  I was shocked when she said she would be doing my cleaning herself – I’m used to a hygienist.  I opened my mouth and looked up at the flat screen on the ceiling playing Judge Joe Brown.  This was very different from the fish mobiles in the large glass building surrounded by Palm Trees that I was used to.

She started the cleaning and immediately I felt like it was not what I was used to.  The sharp pick that squirted water was moving much faster and much harder than I was used to.  I winced and held my breath for a while.  When I opened my eyes, I saw the dentist shaking her head.  “ooooaat?”  I asked.  No response.  “Oooaaay yooo aaaaiinnn oorrr eeeaad?”  I asked louder.  “Too much blood,” she mumbled.  Keeping my head still, I darted my eyes to her gloved hands that were moving in and out of my mouth.  They were covered in blood and more was spraying on them every second.

I began to panic.  This is bad.  A little blood is normal but this isn’t.  What if the instruments aren’t clean?  What if I don’t stop bleeding?  What if this hurts?  She finally stopped with the pick axe and began the polishing.  That was only slightly more comfortable.  Fortunately, it was the fastest cleaning I ever had.  “There you go, all done.”  She said, “See you in 6 months.”  She had left the room.  I was feeling empty inside.  That’s all?  I wasn’t expecting a toy at my age, but where was my free toothbrush?  Or my floss?  I sighed and walked back to work.

On the street outside, I ran my tongue across the front of my no longer bloody teeth.  I crunched down on a bit of grit leftover from the polish.  I smiled.