I’m seeing a new dentist. I suppose that makes it sound like we’re dating, but it’s actually more serious than that. This guy, after all, has greater responsibilities than selecting a restaurant and picking up the check. (Do men even do that anymore?) In short, his duty is to make sure I keep my teeth as long as possible. Bonus points for accomplishing the goal with a minimum of pain.
Until last Monday it had been, oh, a while since I last seated myself in a pleather dental chair. But just over a week ago I took a loaded clipboard and a cheap black pen from a friendly receptionist, plopped down in an empty waiting room, and began to fill in approximately three thousand blanks while waiting for my name to be called. Turns out the paperwork required for a professional floss job is more invasive than a dating service questionnaire. They requested info on everything but my astrological sign (Gemini) and whether or not I want children someday (Yes). Even my marital status and social security number were up for discussion.
Of course, it would have gone a lot faster if a) they’d shown a little restraint in the inquisition department, b) I wrote as speedily – and as legibly – as I type, c) I could have stilled the jittery knee on which I’d balanced the clipboard and d) my own list of dental-related questions would have shut up as requested. How often do you have to floss in order to say you do it regularly? I found myself wondering. Is monthly enough? Will weekly work? And What are the moral implications of lying to my dentist about the last time I had my teeth professionally cleaned? Do you go to hell for that, or is it an understandable white lie? Do all your teeth fall out in retribution? And, finally, the tiny, niggling little If I lie, will they find out and dump me?
Still wondering if I’d gotten all the answers right, I handed the clipboard back and then dug through my bag for my latest read – a fun, but not particularly deep or intricate book that’s perfect for a waiting room. And then they called my name. Swallowing hard, I gathered my stuff and followed the hygienist into the back.
With all the nervousness and questions, it’s no wonder the visit itself was pleasantly anticlimactic: Two hours of scraping and polishing and rinsing and digging and, yes, pain. Most importantly, though: No cavities. My teeth felt loose and puffy afterward, and encased by the same tingling ache I always experienced for days after I skipped my eighth grade history class to have my braces tightened.
I wrapped up the appointment by solemnly swearing to become better acquainted with dental floss, then gathered my stuff and beat it to the receptionist’s desk, where I set up my next appointment. Six months and counting.
Turned out I wasn’t done, though. As I swished through the waiting room and toward the door, still running my tongue over my newly sparkling teeth, one of the hygienists called me back to personally tell me goodbye and invite me to return, saying that I was fun and a pleasure to work with. I felt absurdly pleased, like a kid who wins high marks for cooperation on her third grade report card. Though I can’t say I enjoyed the visit myself, I can’t complain – I do still have all my teeth, after all, and that is the goal.
My dentist is my x-boyfriend…and the only really awkward part is trying to delicately explain how I know Dr. Mac to his assistants. “We used to make-out” does not seem entirely appropriate…
xox
i loathe the dentist. i don’t mind having the work done, it’s the money i inevitably have to pay out of pocket to get the work done that bugs me.
I hate going to the dentist.. Glad to here you’re clear of cavities. 🙂
LOL, Heidi! I have a few of those running around, too. It’s always difficult to explain. You must have had an amicable breakup if you’re still using his dental expertise.
@ Miss Chevious – Actually, a big reason I started going again was because our insurance now covers cleanings. Of course, it doesn’t totally cover any repairs that need to be done, and it does absolutely nothing for the night guard I now need!
@Keri – Thanks, Keri. Me too. 🙂
No cavities? That’s luck and good genes-thank your parents for that one. I know because I got all of my parents’ bad dental problems. I was dentally cursed from the womb!
Glad you and the dentist hit it off and have a second date!
TEN years without a dental visit for me, and no cavities. Congrats, Caryn!
Heidi–ha!!! Loved that :).
Caryn–glad you survived the clean and polish and escaped the chair without a single cavity. You’re amazing! The hygienist should’ve given you a prize. Two, for being fun!!
@Pamela – Well, and I brush all the time, too. Twice a day, plus often more. But that by itself doesn’t explain it! Sorry to hear that you’re dentally cursed. Sounds painful and expensive! I bet you just LOVE trips to the dentist, don’t you?
@Katie – Hey, you beat me! Congrats on being cavity free, too. It’s all that chocolate you hate to eat. 😉
@Marilyn – Thanks! I was really worried since it had been ages.
It’s been…umm…a while for me too. I have an appointment next week. I’m nervous…
Ugh. I have the worst teeth. I’m there all the time. When I walk into my dentist I’m like Norm from Cheers.
Lately, I’ve been pretty good, though. (Of course now that I’ve said this I’ll have a double root canal next visit) LOL