Dental Woes

For those of you who know me, you know that I would rather be locked in a room of hungry, rabid squirrels while wearing walnut-scented perfume than go to the dentist. I. Hate. It. And not only do I have to go twice a year for routine check-ups, but I of course end up having an average of 2-3 cavities every single year that I have to go back for. At least when I was a kid I got a special prize from the treasure chest after the appointment was over, but now all I ever get is bleeding gums, a sore mouth, and a bill.

As you can probably guess by the fact that this post even exists, today I had to make yet another visit to the dentist. This time for three, yes THREE fillings. I had two cavities and a chipped tooth. Who knows how that even happened? The funny thing is, I never actually even know that I have cavities. They don't ever hurt. They're not even sensitive. The only times I have ever full-on known that my next dental check-up would bring about another for a filling was a) when a previous filling fell out and I had what seemed like the grand canyon between my back two molars and b) when I could pull an entire kernel of corn out of the crater that took up residence on yet another back molar (the aforementioned chipped tooth, in this case). I'm convinced that all other times, however, I have never actually had a cavity. They just want to suck me dry with their expensive fees, and because I know absolutely nothing about dentistry, they know they can get away with it. Curse you, evil dentist! Curse you!

I have gone to the same dentist my entire life and he still scares me. It's not his fault, though. It's nothing personal. It's just that, well, when you have twenty+ years of associating the dentist with pain and discomfort, you're naturally going to not like your dentist. And when the only time you ever see him is when you're high on laughing gas and he's staring at you with his bulging magnified eyes as he pokes around and drills inside your mouth, well, I'd say the anxiety is probably legitimate. The only possible compassion I could have on him is because of the following scenario.

Me:Gag

Dentist in the middle of drilling: Heh.

Me: Gag again.

Dentist to assistant: Watch that suction. I think you've got it too far back in her throat. She's gagging.

Me: Gag. Gag. Gag. Sit up in the middle of drilling. Throw up in sink next to me.

Dentist. Uh, let's go ahead and turn that laughing gas off now.

Yeah. Like I've stressed, the dentist office is never happy fun time for me. Even the laughing gas fails when you've had too much and throw up in the middle of your appointment. Awesome.

Anyways, today's lovely appointment lasted a full hour. The appointment was at 9, and 5 hours later I'm finally beginning to get the feeling back in my face. Have you ever tried to put lip gloss on when you can't feel your upper lip? Hilarious! But I warn you not to try it without a mirror. The mirror is essential, ladies. Also of great entertainment are trying to scrunch your nose, smile, drink water, and eat a banana. Oh, and whatever you do, make sure you don't ever talk to a cute guy after a dental appointment. When you smile, you look like a drooling infant...and you don't even realize it. You should really just avoid all male contact until you have feeling back. Trust me on this.

Okay, so I think I'm FINALLY done ranting and raving about the dentist. Thanks for enduring to the end...if you did indeed accomplish such a feat. And if you did in fact read this, I shall now reward you with a link to a delightful sketch from the Carol Burnett Show.