Growing up, dental visits usually weren't a big deal for me. Well, that is once I got over the initial fear of the loud, scraping of metal instruments against my teeth. The funny thing was that despite my daily habit of ice cream, along with whatever other sweets I could get my hands on, I rarely had any problems with my teeth. Sure, I had braces to straighten them out, but other than that, I didn't have much to fix. In fact my family dentist usually ended my visit with the words "perfect as usual".Because of the great track record, I became one of those perverse people who actually enjoyed my semi-annual check up. It meant having that squeaky clean feeling when I ran my tongue along my teeth and bright-white look when I smiled. And as a kid, at the end of my dental visit, I would get to rummage through the treasure chest near the exit for a cool pencil or Cracker Jack type prize.
So it made perfect sense that as an adult with my own dental coverage I would want to add upon those positive experiences by going to the City Center "Dental Spa", which also happened to be just down the street from my office. Dental spa? Yes. They sit you down in the normal reclining chair, but instead of buzzing drills in your face, you receive hand massages, warm herbal wraps, and even hot wax baths for your hands while a chipper hygienist cleans your teeth. Not only are you pampered, but you also receive state of the art examinations. While they place probing cameras in your mouth, you can see your teeth on the flat screen t.v. above your station.
Everything seemed warm and fuzzy until they started playing Celine Dione videos on those inescapable t.v.'s positioned in your direct line of sight. Needless to say, those feelings gradually subsided to those of weariness and defense as they began to find problems in my "perfect as usual" mouth. I had wondered how they could afford all of the high-tech equipment and fresh bouquets of flowers in the waiting area. And, speaking of the waiting area, who ever heard of a dental office placing cookies out for the patients to nibble on?
After apparently fraudulent diagnoses and being jerked around with the scheduling of my appointments, I switched to my current mouth professional - a periodontist on Pill Hill. His gruff mannerism along with the 1970's decor of the office returned a sense of comfort to me. On my latest visit I was shot full of anesthesia which left me with half of my mouth partially immobile. As he scraped under my gum line, he shoved the little water vacuum into my hand and directed me on where to move it. "Back. No, back further. No, here," is how it went. I liked the bare bones approach to his care - who needs assistants when the patient has able hands? After all, it was only the right side of my mouth that was put to sleep. And put to sleep it was. I felt like a stroke victim for the rest of the afternoon as I futilely tried to smile or eat, wiping drooled smoothie from my face.
As I left the chair and went to pay the receptionist, I wanted to thank the guy. But how do you say "Thanks for your no-nonsense, old man mannerisms. It brings about a sense of legitimacy to your work," without sounding like a total ass?
I'm looking forward to my visit next month to get the other half of my mouth numbed up and cleaned.
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