No Fillings This Time
I went to the dentist yesterday. Going there is always a mixture of anticipation and horror, although lately it leans toward the latter (I no longer qualify for the free fake vampire teeth and plastic animals from the prize box).
I walk in the door to the office and secretly hope it will be a while in the waiting room. There’s a fascinating copy of Details magazine with Jason Bateman on the cover that I’m dying to peruse.
“Bryanna Campbell.” Damn. They’ve mispronounced my name again, and I haven’t even seen past the table of contents (I’ll never see the Users Guide to Man Boobs now).
Once I’m in the torture chair (because, let’s be honest, that’s what all torture chairs look like), I cross my fingers and hope it’s not that psycho hygienist I got last time. No such luck. This lady plays a harsh game.
I try to go into my happy place while she’s hacking away at my gums. Think of that great scene I did yesterday. How about that cute guy to whom I almost waved? I can’t wait to get to that baseball game -
“There’s a lot of bleeding here.” Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, Sadistic Nurse. She must have some sort of telepathy that tells her exactly when I’m almost not noticing her mouth-Jihad so she can comment on it or ask me a question.
“What have you been up to?” This is a really great question, one I could really delve into if I didn’t have a mirror, a scraper (that’s dentist lingo for you), and some kind of foam I’m trying desperately not to swallow in my mouth (I know that may also be what she said - get your mind out of the gutter). But that’s okay; I’m going to think about what I’ve been up to, starting with that wonderful time I had in New York -
“You need to start flossing.” The assault continues. I was waiting for that one. It doesn’t matter that I floss every day, or that I’ve told them this every single time I’ve been there. In fact, I have a really great explanation I’d like to give them this time, because I’d been thinking about it, and really, it’s their fault if I bleed so much. Here goes:
“Mmmfff mm mmff.” I know what you’re thinking: “Brynna, you’re so eloquent. There’s no way she didn’t stop to think about that one.” Thank you; you’re very kind. But she just won’t listen to reason.
“You should also rinse with saltwater.” Thanks, Lady.
Fortunately, it’s over, and all that’s left is to speak to the dentist himself.
“You’re fine.”
Oh good. I’m glad there’s a dentist in the house to provide such a detailed description of how my teeth are doing. Following this expert opinion he proceeds to tell me all about how he spoke to a House committee about how we shouldn’t reform the health care system. Great. I was just wondering if there were other ways these guys could twist the knife. I’m so happy to be funding this operation.
Well, at least my teeth are looking shiny and white (put blatantly racist remark here). Now to go eat some jawbreakers and pesto.
