For the love of PETE! As if I didn't already have enough to be freaked out about--now I have to worry about those pesky twice yearly 'dental cleanings'.
I got up at the crack of 'too early to be thinking clearly, let alone get out of bed and let loose on the world' this morning so I could get my dental visit over with.
I have about as much love for going to the dentist as I do a tax audit. But since I do like teeth that still stick to my gums and that minty-fresh overly white smile that says 'you just paid a fortune to have your teeth whitened' look--I made my semi-annual trek down to the dentist's office to have a 'cleaning.'
I actually thought this might be my lucky day as my dentist had hired a new, very young hygienist who looked all of about 14. So I figured she would be through with me quickly and painlessly since she looked like she could barely lift a rinse cup. Besides she looked so sweet and innocent and talked in a baby soft voice.
Boy was I in for a surprise!
She asked if I had ever had a cleaning with the new water/pick drill method. I didn't think so--but then, everything in a dental office either has water, picks, or drills to go with it.
That's when the madness began. Holy Mother of Agua!. . . this was the most tortuous fun I can ever remember having to date.
Dental Terrorist: Put on these goggles for protection. Oh, and this might be a little noisy.
Me: Uh, OK.
Then the sound a room full of hyped up school teachers running their fingers down a massive chalk board assaulted my ears--followed by the sound of a harrier jet engine revving up.
Me: Holy crap, what is that noise?
Dental Terrorist: That's just the water drill warming up. Here we go. . . you will most likely get a bit wet. But think of it as a facial mist at a spa or something.
That's when she shot cold water into my mouth at the speed of light with a pressure that ripped my upper palate right off. The 'pick' would drill into my gums and the water jet would rinse everything off and erupt out of my mouth and all over my face and hair and goggles (if she wasn't too quick with that 'suction-thingy'--which she sometimes wasn't)
Now, I am not an expert on water-boarding--nor am I claiming that I have actually been to Gitmo--BUT, I'm thinking that had I been interrogated during any point of this of 'water-drilling' event, I would have given up my deepest, darkest secrets and even made up stuff--just to get this woman from the nether regions of Hell to JUST PLEASE STOP!
After being given a towel and several tissues to wipe up and dry off, the lady terrorist had the chutzpa to ask me how I liked it.
Me: Hopefully that was a one time deal.
Dental terrorist: We will be using this a lot--since it really does a deep down cleaning for gums and teeth.
Me: Seriously, next time if I promise to be really good and floss hourly, can you just go back to using the scrapers and picks that make my gums bleed?
Dental terrorist: Oh, you are a funny one, aren't you? The dentist will be in to follow up with you shortly. You may want to reapply your make-up.
She hands me a mirror so that I can take a gander at my face which shows my mascara and make-up dripping down my chin. While I'm trying to salvage my self-respect and tissue-dry my ruined face--in walks Dr. Perfect, my handsome dentist.
Dentist: What? No shouting or whining today? I thought you had the 'water-drill' cleaning.
Me: I couldn't say a thing--I was drowning.
Dentist: Well, here's a little goody bag for you then--since you were such a good girl your first time.
Me: What do the other patients do? (maybe I could get some tips)
Dentist: Never mind. Is there anything you need to ask me?
Me: Do you have a hair dryer?
Dentist: You are a funny one, aren't you? We'll see you in a few months.
(the heck you will!)
I'm not sure what they are teaching in 'dental hygiene' school these days--but I'm thinking that maybe some of the wrong 'methods' have found their way into the tomes of dental care.
All I know is, that I now have to buy a wetsuit and mask for before my next appointment.
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