Adam and Carissa, if you read this, know that even with all the crap in my mouth, it was one of the better dental crises of my career as a dental patient simply because I knew Adam and his peers cared about my oral health. This blog is in no way meant to make Adam feel bad. I wrote it because it's funny to me; I couldn't help but think it ironic.
I went to the dentist the other day. Well actually, I went to the dental student the other day. Interesting though, he's the first dental professional I've visited that I feel did his job.
And why do we say, "I visited the dentist"? It's not like I was invited there to have tea and crumpets. I didn't go there to see how he was feeling or chat (although you're a lovely conversationalist, Adam--good jorb, there), I went because my dang teeth hurt. Although, Adam, had you been having a bad day, I would have felt sorry for you, okay? I just don't consider two hours of having my mouth invaded, a visit. I mean, what host uses one of these on their guests?http://z.about.com/d/dentistry/1/0/P/4/perioclose.JPGMaybe next week, if you have a crocheted doily and a few sugar-free cookies sitting on a plate that looks like this:
I'll consider it a visit. If not, I'll have to come up with some other kind of word--like Torturefest. Note the -fest at the end. With a suffix like that, you know it's a party!
Now, it's not like it was completely terrible. I ended the "visit" with a renewed sense of pride. You see, it was necessary to make impressions of my teeth. This is not a fun experience. Before getting the impression gunk ready (a type of plaster of paris for teeth was my impression of it, ha ha ha! Ok, I'm done with my stupid joke now), Adam asked me if I gag easily. Um, yes. However, I was able to refrain from throwing up. I gaged a few times when he did the upper teeth and none when he did the bottom. This took great concentration. You must understand the great personal triumph that was experienced by myself. I had to stare at a dot on the wall, about four inches from the ground. I had to not think about the fact that I felt like I was choking and I had to try really, really hard not to cry. I just sat there, with Adam holding it in my mouth until it was set enough for him to take his hand off, drooling all over my nice, sunny yellow bib. When the impression material came out, my teeth were covered in the stuff. Little bits of it were stuck in my teeth and on my tongue. It was nasty. And instead of cleaning my teeth and face off, he had to put more nasty stuff in my mouth, this time is was purple! Ooh, fun! This one was to measure my jaw alignment or bite or something like that. Whatever it was, it's off and the head dental lady will suggest to me at my next appointment that I wear braces. (Thanks for the heads up, Adam!)
This was an especially great triumph for me because I'm a little bit OCD. Now I know, everyone thinks they're OCD, but I really am. I won't give you the gory details, but trust me, I was a psych major and one of my favorite books is The Boy Who Couldn't Stop Washing. Having all that stuff on my face and in my mouth was extremely difficult for me and I have to say, I was quite impressed with myself!
So there I am at the end of my "visit" and instead of running my tongue over my clean, fresh teeth, I was picking plaster out from between my teeth, trying to not think about the less than minty fresh taste in my mouth, and wondering just how much plaster was left on my face that people were sure to see as I walked out of the dental school. Usually when I leave the dentist, despite feeling ravenous, I don't want to eat and ruin the perfect cleanliness of my mouth. I want to savor the smoothness of my teeth and the minty fresh breath from whatever treatment involves a minty flavored something. It just felt weird to leave the dentist with a messier mouth than when I arrived.
Next time, I'm taking a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some floss with me when I visit the dentist.