Nebulous Mooch

I went to the dentist today for the normal poking and prodding. During my check-up the hygienist asked me if I wanted an oral cancer screening. I said no, because it costs fifty dollars extra and I don’t think I have oral cancer. Maybe that’s not the best choice but it’s the choice I made today.

When I went to the counter to pay after my appointment, the receptionist, who I’ve never saw before, examined my paperwork. “I see you didn’t get the oral cancer screening,” she said. She typed in some things on her keyboard. “Patrick got the oral cancer screening last time he was here.”

“Really?” I said. Did she think that telling me that my husband got the oral cancer screening was going to make me change my mind? Did she expect me to say, Patrick got it. Then I better get it too?

The other day I was talking with my mother on the phone and I mentioned something about my teeth. I was having problems with a filling so the dentist took it out and put in a temporary filling. If I have no problems with the temporary, she’ll replace it with a normal filling.

When I told my mother this she said, “I’m surprised you don’t put your own fillings in.”

Of course, I had never heard of such a thing so I laughed. “So you put in your own fillings now,” I joked.

“Yes, I do.” The pride in her voice was evident.

My mother has bought temporary filling stuff (I don’t know what to call it), a dental mirror, a dental syringe (for spraying water to clean out small spaces not injecting pain killers), and a dental hook from the drug store. She uses the hook to clean the tartar from her teeth on a regular basis. If she has a cavity she cleans it out with the syringe and then puts in the filling.

“What about drilling out the decayed part of the tooth?” I asked.

“The drilling is just to seat the filling. It’s not necessary. It’s just for show,” she said.

Needless to say, Mr. Dentist Pants doesn’t approve.

Yesterday morning I went to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. I always have a good attitude when I arrive at the dentist’s office, but a few minutes after sitting in the dental chair everything changes. My oral hygiene is very good. At least, I think it’s good. The problem is that the dental hygienist never agrees with me.

The hygienist busied herself around getting her instruments together while she made small talk with me about my job and such. She seemed nice enough, until she stuck that metal hook in my mouth. As she poked my gums she said, “So you don’t get around to flossing very much, huh?”

I floss everyday, and brush after every meal. I would’ve told her that if she didn’t have that hook in my mouth at the time she asked the question. I could only grunt in response.

“I can tell because your gums are bleeding,” she continued scraping my teeth all the while. “I bet you see a lot of bleeding when you brush.”

I never see bleeding when I brush. I’m sure her gums would bleed too if I poked them repeatedly with a sharp object. I grunted again.

“You should consider buying an electric toothbrush from the front. They really help clean up that soft plaque.”

She’s supposed to push those electric toothbrushes because they cost $109. I grunted and tried to shake my head.

My previous dentist used to have me rinse with a purple liquid that was supposed to stick to the plaque in my mouth, to let me know where I don’t brush well enough. When I rinsed, all of my teeth would be purple like I never brushed at all. Then I would get a lecture about careful brushing. If I didn’t brush more carefully they would have to give me a deep cleaning, which is, of course, twice as much as a regular cleaning. I thought of it as a kind of parlor trick. I bet the purple dye stuck to everyone’s teeth. It’s all such a scam.

When the hygienist was done cleaning my teeth, my gums were swollen and hurt. They hurt for the rest of the day and when I brushed my teeth they bled. I complained bitterly about the experience for the rest of the day. I think I even told my husband at one point that I wanted to go back to the office and punch her in the face. I would never do anything like that of course.

My husband loves going to the dentist. Last night he told me that he feels so sorry that I don’t love it too. “Maybe you’re just extra sensitive,” he suggested.

“I don’t think that I am, Mr. Dentist Pants,” I said. I think that the dentist’s office is a torture chamber. Some people just enjoy torture.

I‘m thorough. I always wear a moisturizer with sunscreen. I always put sunscreen on my tattoo. I brush my teeth after every meal. I get my teeth cleaned every six months. I can’t imagine not doing these things. That’s why I was shocked and appalled when my husband told me that the last time he went to the dentist’s office was the same year that Bon Jovi released the Slippery When Wet album.

He went today for the first time in twenty years. I pushed him out of the door with a scared look on his face. He had muttered something about canceling the appointment earlier in the day. As he left he said he’d be back after they pulled out all of his teeth.

We go to the same dentist. Maybe they give nervous patients free hits of laughing gas. They sure didn’t give me any. I don’t know what they did to him, but he came back with all of his teeth and a big smile. He was gleeful. He was delighted to show me a copy of his x-rays and his paperwork stating all of the work he needs done.

Most people don’t want to go to the dentist. Even if you have good teeth, it’s uncomfortable to have someone poking around in your mouth. They say they know what they’re doing with those metal hooks, but what if they slip or sneeze? All of the drilling and scraping is unpleasant. Who knows where that suction tube has been?

My husband can’t wait to go back. His next appointment is on his birthday. He can’t ask for a better birthday present. He can have his teeth cleaned in the morning and we can eat birthday cake in the afternoon.