A Trip To The Dentist
Damn, I hope I don't have a cavity! I've only had two my whole life. Shoot, I better not need braces! I was pretty much the only kid without them. My lord! What if I have gum disease? Or plaque? You know there's only a one letter difference between plaque and plaGue. What if I end up with some sort of plague rather than plaque? I better take the CO2. Wait, that would be wimpy! I hate that sound the tool makes when your teeth are being cleaned, and that pointy thing they use to stick at you. I don't want to be the damn dentist's lab rat today. I don't want to go, but the appointment card says I have to. My 24 hour cancellation notice has come and gone. I'll lose a ton of money if I don't see "Dr. Dreadful" today.
If you're like me, you probably hate going to the dentist. Because of my surgery, I have to have my teeth and gums checked every 3-4 months to make sure there isn't any plaque or, worse yet, bleeding. This means I get to sit in that uncomfortable chair with the glare of that light and the gloss of that mirror. It gives new meaning to "The Shining". I need help! "Let me out of here," I can hear myself saying.
"This sucks," I tell my friendly hygienist. She nods her head in agreement which does me no good because she is still about to "go evil" on me.
HERE'S THE REAL DEAL: IF YOU ARE LIKE ME, YOU PROBABLY BRUSH, FLOSS AND SWIG THAT MOUTHWASH AT THE VERY LAST SECOND BEFORE YOUR APPOINTMENT. YOU WANT TO MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION. HAH! WE'RE SCREWED. THEY'RE ON TO US.
So, that's my routine. Then, I show up at the real House of Blues. The Dental Dungeon. The Palace of Pain. It sucks. Every last minute of it... except the very end.
"Nigel, your teeth look better than I've seen them in a very long time. Your gums look great," exclaimed my friendly hygienist, who I am beginning to like more and more.
Scorecard. No cavities. No braces. No gum problems. No plaque. No plague. Chompers are in tip-top shape. All is well in the hell I call Dr. Dread's place.
If you're like me, you probably hate going to the dentist. Because of my surgery, I have to have my teeth and gums checked every 3-4 months to make sure there isn't any plaque or, worse yet, bleeding. This means I get to sit in that uncomfortable chair with the glare of that light and the gloss of that mirror. It gives new meaning to "The Shining". I need help! "Let me out of here," I can hear myself saying.
"This sucks," I tell my friendly hygienist. She nods her head in agreement which does me no good because she is still about to "go evil" on me.
HERE'S THE REAL DEAL: IF YOU ARE LIKE ME, YOU PROBABLY BRUSH, FLOSS AND SWIG THAT MOUTHWASH AT THE VERY LAST SECOND BEFORE YOUR APPOINTMENT. YOU WANT TO MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION. HAH! WE'RE SCREWED. THEY'RE ON TO US.
So, that's my routine. Then, I show up at the real House of Blues. The Dental Dungeon. The Palace of Pain. It sucks. Every last minute of it... except the very end.
"Nigel, your teeth look better than I've seen them in a very long time. Your gums look great," exclaimed my friendly hygienist, who I am beginning to like more and more.
Scorecard. No cavities. No braces. No gum problems. No plaque. No plague. Chompers are in tip-top shape. All is well in the hell I call Dr. Dread's place.
Congratulations on your lovely teeth.
I just had four wisdom teeth pulled, so I should be safe for a while longer too.
Posted by
geeksters |
4:12 AM