I hate the dentist. I went yesterday for the first time in 18 months, and I’ve decided that I truly hate the dentist.
I remember as a kid being excited about the dentist. I always got to leave school early. I hardly ever had cavities. The people were always so nice and friendly. And, I always got a new toothbrush. It was great. I think everywhere you go should have some sort of small parting gift. (I’ll have to figure out what I can give folks when they come visit me. “Don’t want you to leave empty handed!” I would say.)
What I do not remember, even in the slightest, is the pain. I get that they are using sharp tools and that they have to scrape right up to the gums, but golly, I walked out of there with the taste of blood still in my mouth. The pain was not just physical either. They hurt my pride. And that’s a wound that will take a lot more time to heal.
You see, after they got me good and bloody, they started poking at my teeth and calling out things like “DO on 32,” “MO on 13… and 7,” and “Wrought-iron fence on 24.” I could be wrong on the lingo – I hope – but when it was all said and done I have eight cavities! Eight! I had nine cavities last time I went to the dentist, and that was after not going for something-like 6 years! Eight cavities!
I think the good dentist saw the heart-broken surprise in my eyes and quickly said, “You just need to floss.” She went on to explain that I have four cavities that are affecting eight teeth. Four cavities are still way too much. I was expecting a clean bill of health! ... and a toothbrush.
It all makes me hate the dentist. In fact, I feel the need to protest publicly. Maybe next time I go to the dentist, I'll wear a shirt that says, "I DON'T FLOSS!" and "I hate the dentist." That'll show them.
No comments:
Post a Comment