I despise the dentist.
The drills, the smell, the lobby waiting for your name to be called so you can hurry the hell out of there – but at the same time you hope your name isn’t called because one knows on the other side of the door is door. A living hell, that’s what.
Now in 21 years of dental appointments I’ve been through it all – or so I believed – five cavities filled in one sitting, wisdom teeth gone and done for, fillings, root canals, cleanings.
Before I went to get my regular 6 month check up I was asked to fill out a “medical update survey” it was bland and pointless but one question I particularly enjoyed was; “how much do you fear going to the dentist? 1 being no fear 10 being dreadfully scared.”
I wrote the number 11 and then circled it. I hate the dentist. Then yesterday came.
Steeler Loving Lunatic
I was pretty sure that my dental hygienist was born Misery City USA, I thought that before she talked about her beloved Pittsburgh for ten minutes while setting everything up.
Secondly she has her little square decorated in Steelers apparel. Car flag, poster, license plate that says 5 Time World Champs (but the five is covered up by a sticky note with the number 6 on it…sweet.) Then there were the two photos of her from Super Bowl 43, one of the field, the other of her with her personalized Steelers jersey (again sweet) with the black and gold flowered lei around her neck. Minus one point.
My friends I watch football, I watched the Super Bowl from start to finish but for ten minutes while she was putting on her latex gloves and arranging her weapons to clean my teeth she gave me a play-by-play of how the game looked from her seats.
Apparently James Harrison ran the ball really far for a score and did you know that Santonio Holmes caught the winning touchdown? I did. Minus another two points.
Ross The Intern
I was hoping she’d be all talked out after numbing my senses with Steeler blabber – but the dental gods were clearly out to get me, she wasn’t done talking, not even close. Next up she presented her thesis on Jay Leno and his big finale from the Late Night Show.
Apparently this was a huge occurrence in her life because she TiVOd the event and bought the episode of iTunes. Her favorite Jay Leno clips featured Ross The Intern. For those of you who don’t know (which included me till yesterday) Ross the Intern is an extremely flamboyant intern who well – is gay.
Or as my no filter, no sense for common decency hygienist put it, “he’s a flaming faggot!”
Take a second to let that one sit in.
That’s what she said, “he’s a flaming faggot.” Now I’m not homosexual (there’s nothing wrong with that) or am I necessarily politically correct BUT WHAT THE HELL? What do I do here? Awkwardly laugh because when she has two latex gloves, and a metal scrapper in your mouth it is no time to start an argument. Minus ten thousand points.
Name calling, check. Summary of the Jay Leno finale, check. Impersonations of Ross – no she couldn’t she couldn’t be that horrendous of a human – check.
When one is reclined in the dentist’s chair it is equivalent to being held prisoner while ‘Bruno’ has his way. You can’t move, you can’t run, you simply take it whatever it is that comes at you. Even if it is the worst, not to mention most offensive, homosexual references imaginable.
Gum Bleeding Grand Finale
Have I mentioned yet how much I despise the dentist? What really irks me the most is the cleaning process.
You sit down and have your teeth scrapped away at, like an elderly woman scrapes the ice off her sidewalk, short strokes, loud noises, and only amusing to watch not be part of.
So when hygienist from hell sarcastically told me my gums bleed, I sarcastically replied “that happens when you jab your metal hook into my gums bitch!” Well that’s what I would’ve liked to said – and I’m pretty sure she knew it.
It was over after this. She read my mind and let the bleeding commence. In the next couple of minutes I’m not entirely sure what happened. I bled, and I bled, and I bled while my mouth was rinsed out once.
One rinse out in five minutes. You know how much blood, saliva, and testosterone gets lost when you bleed from your mouth while the hygienist scrapes away and polishes your teeth?
It was absolute hell in that chair for forty minutes. I squirmed from the pain – the pain of her stories, her impersonations, and her downright disregard for my mouth – what that hygeinst put me through was sheer and utter torture.
But next time I’m asked to fill out a form that asks ““how much do you fear going to the dentist? 1 being no fear 10 being dreadfully scared.” I’ll put 0.
No comments:
Post a Comment