Apr 19 2008
Going to the Dentist
I went to the dentist this week because my mom made me an appointment. I am 26 years old. Let me explain. When my mom gets something in her head (this idea being that my teeth are incredibly dirty, but previous ideas being that my carpet is filthy and should be professionally cleaned, my cat looks like it is feral, and my friends in high school were all bad influences) it is very hard to dissuade her. She will hold on to this opinion and bring it up with the same sort of single-mindedness a bulldog has when in snaps its jaws down on a toddler. This happens until something is done or everyone agrees with her. A few months ago, she became obsessed with my teeth.
“Your teeth need to be whitened” she said repeatedly, every single time she saw me.
“Are you saying my teeth look bad?” I asked. I thought that taking this tactic would immediately cause my mom to withdraw in fear of damaging my fragile self-confidence. No such luck.
“I just think if you are going to be going to job interviews and meeting people you should have white teeth, it looks nice when they are clean.” This was the nicest this argument got. It then dissolved into her pleading with me every time I got on the phone with her to get my teeth cleaned and saying things like, “You don’t want to have to wear dentures or have your teeth fall out when you are 40, right?” I tried to ignore her, the same way I do when she goes on and on about me wearing a headset while driving because it is not safe otherwise. Eventually she quieted down on the topic, and I assumed I had weathered the storm.
It was just the eye of the hurricane. After a few days of no mention of the teeth, I received an email. “DENTAL CLEANING” was the title.
I made an appointment for you to get your teeth cleaned on Tuesday, April 15th. At 4PM. Love, MOM
April 15th was about 3 days away. “Mom,” I tried, on the phone, “I just started the new job. I will have dental insurance in 2 weeks. I will make my own appointment then…”
“Stop yelling at me,” my mom said. I examined the volume level on the phone. It was normal. “It’s too late to cancel the appointment.” I was informed.
The truth was, I had been avoiding a dentist appoint. At my previous job I didn’t have dental insurance (they, apparently, were not very concerned about me having dentures at 30), and so it had been a while. Like since 2005, a while. It’s not so bad, I reasoned with myself while I sat in the waiting room, people got around for 1,000s of years before dentist showed up and started insisting we floss and come in annually, what could possibly be wrong? In fact, I continued to mentally dialogue, this whole dentist thing is just a big racket. They’re in cohots with the floss people. It’s BS! I bet my teeth would be just fine if I didn’t go for 10 years!!!
My dentist stuck her head out to say “hi.” I gave her a sheepish wave like she was an ex-boyfriend I was seeing around.
“What’s up?” I yelled.
“It’s been a while,” she said, “you look good.” It was awkward.
“Uh, you look good too” I said.
By the time the hygienist called my name it was sort of a relief. She studied my chart. “It’s been a while,” I said, making small talk with her. I was nervous and I was waiting for her to launch into a “better late than never, or a well you’re here now, it’s all going to be fine” type deal. No such luck.
“It has been a while,” she stated grimly. “Are you scared?” I stared at her with my mouth open which was good since she was already starting to put things in it. I was hoping that what I was experiencing was similar to when you hike a mountain and get almost to the top and start getting passed by people coming down. “Am I almost there?” you ask them, hoping for a little reassurance. “Oh, it’s about 5 more miles and it is ROUGH” they exclaim. They have been on the mountain for like 2 hours longer than you, but they are experts on how hard the mountain is since they have been to the top. It’s an annoying phenomenon.
Anyway, this lady was like that, but with my teeth. She made her way around to my side of the table and lowered the chair. The ceiling at my dentist’s office has a picture of a giant hippo with its mouth open which I find disturbing since I recently watch a special on how hippos are really mean-spirited and kill tons of people in Africa each year.
“Well, you have gingivitis…, that’s to be expected,” the hygienist began poking around “who know what else we will find…” Throughout the 30 minute cleaning she proceeded to berate my teeth until I was sure that when I looked in the mirror I would be confronted with a mouth full of brown stumps “Some decay here,” she said, spraying water. “Now suck” No wonder my mom wanted me to have an appointment, my teeth where horrific! When she was finally done, she brought in the x-rays.
“How do they look?” I asked grimly.
“Well, I’m no doctor, but I see a LOT of decay,” she said. “We’ll see.” And then she left and I sat like a death row prisoner until she came back with my dentist. My dentist examined the x-ray. Then she started poking around.
“You teeth look beautiful!” she exclaimed. I shoot a look at the hygienist.
“I saw some decay on number 23, 31, and 24,” she stuttered.
“No, they’re fine” my dentist said. How could I have ever doubted myself? Of course my teeth were awesome. How could I doubt that I would have the most awesome teeth ever. This hygienist was obviously just jealous of how great they are. The dentist warned me to floss, which I assured her I do (I don’t), and told me to come in another few months for another cleaning (I probably won’t). The whole thing came to 202 dollars I would not have to pay in two weeks when I have insurance. Don’t ask me what the 2 dollars are for.
In conclusion, I never should have doubted my teeth.
