Dentistry Made Uneasy

 
In these days of e-mails and text messages, it’s nice to receive a snail mail for a change. But a reminder for my next dentist appointment? On friday the 13th? Oh no, I hate going to the dentist. Like filing my income tax returns, it gives me the creeps. Certainly, I’m not looking forward to it.

My relationship with my dentist started when I answered his ad for a free dental checkup. It was supposed to be free but that didn’t stop him from asking if I had insurance. He also asked for my credit card number. Nothing personal, he said, just for their records in case of an emergency. I wasn’t able to escape from his clutch again.

He’s one carefree spirit in his mid 40s. His face is round like mine with eyes like that of a boy about to commit mischief. His fingers are stubby and strong. They are well-designed to pull even the most stubborn wisdom tooth. He’s a little heavy on the tummy that I can’t avoid physical contact with it while he’s servicing me. Sometimes I wonder about his sexual orientation but it doesn’t bother me a bit because, if that’s really the case, I think I have nothing that will excite him. My mouth perhaps? He looks into it so intensely that I feel totally exposed. When he asks me to open my mouth wider, I see signs of tenderness in his eyes, but whatever it is he finds interesting in there he keeps to himself. He’s a professional.

His only claim to vanity is his hairpiece. I swear it looks so natural you’ll hardly notice it. I shouldn’t forget to complement him on it on my coming visit. Maybe he’ll give me a discount. Surely his rates are steep. $250 for cleaning, $750 for extraction, and $1,500 for a crown. However, I don’t think the motivation is greed because dentistry is a noble calling. Besides, I’m sure he had paid off his college loan by now.

He loves to tell jokes and to ensure I don’t fall asleep he pokes his instrument into my gums a little deeper for my comfort. He interrupts his jokes by a plug for additional service like teeth whitening which I don’t mind. Although his jokes are oftentimes not funny, his voice sounds very comforting. It’s when he starts humming while choosing his next instrument that gets me scared. That’s the time for serious business. If you rate the pain forthcoming from 1 to 10 it would be around 12. You better believe me. I’ve been there.

Every time I see him there’s always something wrong. He’s becoming more like my auto mechanic. In one of my visits, he said a tooth was getting loose, and to prove it, and before I could utter a word, he jiggled it. The unwelcome demonstration made it looser I had no choice but to have it extracted.

I wonder what he’d find this time. If there’s no loose tooth, I’m sure he’d find cavities. Nefore my last visit, I remember flossing and brushing my teeth regularly and avoiding my favorite snickers bar for six months and still I got cavities. When i expressed my puzzlement, he said it must be my genes. This time it may even be for a root canal. I could only tremble at the thought.