Dentists have an unenviable job. I mean, they get paid bucket loads of money, but they have to stick their fingers in other people's mouths all day. They have to deal with screaming kids and cranky old people. Not very many people like them, and a visit to the dentist is a pretty surefire way to ruin anyone's day.
Personally, I don't think dentists are all that bad. I mean, I get my teeth super sparkling shiny clean, and that's good, right? As long as I don't need to get a root canal or something, it's OK to go to the dentist's.
At least, that's what I think any time I'm not actually in the dentist's office.
Last week, because of an unfortunate series of events involving cars breaking down in southern Utah, I was left stranded home alone, all day every day, with nothing to do but wash dishes and clean bathrooms. No joke. That's what I did to fill my time. Then my dad informed me of a dentist appointment for the both of us the next day. He came home early from work the next day, and we drove out to the middle of nowhere, because our dentist is approximately 52 miles from our house. We had to stop at every stoplight in the entire city, but finally reached our destination. Once there, we had to sit in the waiting room, where I was glad I'd thought to bring a book, because they have books with titles like, "You and Your Teeth: An Important Relationship," and "The Berenstein Bears Learn How to Floss." Meanwhile, they played music straight from the eighties, while I was waiting for them to just clean my teeth already and get it over with, dang it! I had important stuff to do back at home! Those floors needed to be mopped, and weren't going to wait forever! OK, I actually had nothing important to do back at home, but at least I had a computer there.
It was time for my semi-annual x-rays, so they shoved that weird plastic thing into my mouth for me to bite while they draped a heavy lead jacket around me to protect me from the radiation. Every time they do this, I bite down stoically, looking straight ahead, secretly petrified that they're going to find some horrible cancerous growth in my cheek. I can just hear it now: "Something seems to have gone wrong with the x-ray. We can't see your teeth, because this large gray spot is obscuring our view. Let's try again. Oh wait, it's not our equipment, it's you! You've got cancer. They'll have to remove your entire jaw." Luckily, I managed to make it another year without having to have that conversation. Phew.
They cleaned my teeth, which I guess wasn't that bad. They used that bubble gum flavored foam I've been getting ever since I can remember. I hear tell other people get choices of flavors, like mint, but they always forget to ask me. They've stopped asking how often I floss and brush my teeth, which is good, because I hate that question. I hate having to admit that while my brushing is great, my flossing isn't as often as it should be. I still do it, but it's really hard and time consuming with a permanent retainer. Besides, they'll probably find that out soon enough for themselves, when they're up to their elbows in my plaque. (Disclaimer: I promise my teeth are actually healthy, and I haven't had a cavity in years and years, so please don't judge me too harshly for that sentence.) The whole time I was staring intently at a spot on the ceiling, because I desperately wanted to avoid that awkward moment when you accidentally make eye contact with your dentist as their face is 5 inches away from yours, and they're up to their elbows in your plaque.
I guess the overall experience was fine, but it reaffirmed my conviction to never become a dentist. Afterwards I headed home for an exciting afternoon of cleaning my room and eating what meager food was in my house after being gone for over a week.
