Fixing a hole

I'm not an anti-dentite, but like most people, the dentist's office is one of my least favorite places to spend time. I've been there many, many times over the years, and if I could go back and do it all over again, one of my top five changes would be to heed the advice of the wise and FLOSS. Every day. Or if not every day, at least a few times a week. This would have saved me many problems (and money) over the years.

So, one of the lessons I've learned by this point is to go to the dentist regularly. Every six months and it's time for another cleaning. The flossing thing, however, still eluded me. At most visits, I've come to expect a lot of picking and poking, and usually, as happens by this TIME in my life (ahem) I receive the news that one or two cavities need to be replaced. It's always something, and I wish that once, just once, I could bid farewell to the dentist with a "Bye, see you in six months!" But no. It's always something.

And so, recently, for the first time, I received the news that I did NOT need an old cavity to be replaced. WOO HOO! Finally!! I've been waiting so long for this. Instead... I have new cavities. That's right, that's plural. FOUR new cavities! And on my front teeth no less! How did this happen? I haven't had new cavities in years, pretty much since I began sticking to the six-month regimen. And what the hell have I been doing with my front teeth, exactly?!

I made my appointment at their earliest appointment, a few weeks away, and when the day came, with some mild trepidation I arrived for my appointment. At 11:40 am in the morning, which would release me at approximately 12:30 in the afternoon, or more precisely, LUNCHTIME. When I'm unable to eat. Great. "Well, at least it's your front teeth, and not your back chewing teeth," the receptionist tried to cheer me up. A good point, although I still wasn't thrilled with the time slot.

At my dentist's office, they have TV screens built into the ceiling above the exam chair. Awesome! Two of the three work, and of course I was escorted to the one chair whose TV screen remained dark. "Those TVs are on," I said hopefully, pointing to the next station over. "I know," the dental hygienist answered. "There's a problem with the wire or something with this one. Sorry!"

I knew this TV had a problem because every time I have to have work done, they take me to the same station, and every time, the TV is off. So I knew today would be no different. However, the other screens are not usually turned on at the time. Especially since both of the other chairs were EMPTY and would remain that way the whole time I was there. Could I request to be moved? Is it like a restaurant where you'd rather a window seat or one not in the line of the kitchen traffic? Since she didn't offer, I glumly sat down in my seat.

Probably the worst part of having a cavity (or FOUR) filled is the novocaine shot. Granted, the whole appointment would probably be hell if it weren't for the novocaine shot, but still, let's face it, that shot sucks. And since I was lucky enough to have my fillings in a couple of my front teeth, I got the shots right in the front of the gums above my teeth. After about 15 minutes had gone by, I felt like I had buck teeth and a clown's nose on. I decided to share this with the dental hygienist, who laughed. "When you talk, your top lip doesn't even move," she marveled in a way that made me nervously think that maybe she had never witnessed this before. "He got you GOOD!"

This statement led me to believe that if I were lucky, I might be able to eat lunch by sometime tomorrow.

Anyway, he put the chair so far back that I felt I might slide right off the back and onto the floor. I wonder if that had ever happened before? All of the slippery plastic covering the head part makes it seem possible. Well, there's always a first time, and it most likely would be with me. I find it so funny that when you're in that chair, for some reason it's taboo to make eye contact with the dentist or hygienist. That would be weird. And unfortunately, they have to get SO CLOSE to your face that it's nearly impossible to see anything else. Not that there's anything else to look at. (More on this later.) The only doctor who gets closer to your face is the optometrist, and with that one you're FORCED to keep your eyes open, so it might be even weirder. Still, in that case you're required to stare straight ahead like you don't see them, 2 millimeters from your eyeball, shining a bright light into your eye. "La la la, I'm just sitting here, and I see nothing strange at all. No one's looking at me, and I'm just going about my business sitting here... I don't see anything..." Of course, if you happen to spot them in your peripheral vision, you're just praying that you won't notice them smiling at you or anything weird like that.

So, either you close your eyes, or you look at the ceiling. I close my eyes for a while, but since I wear contacts, sometimes my eyes get a little blurry if they've been closed for too long, so I like to open them sometimes to avoid this problem. So... looking around. Needle? Ack! Close eyes quickly! Ok, open again. Hmm... there is the dentist about 4 inches from my face. There's the hygienist holding the little spit sucking thing. (We used to call this "Mr. Thirsty" as kids.) There is literally NOTHING to look at. All there is to do is notice the horrible, outdated ceiling that makes you wonder exactly where all of your money is going. The one directly over my head was cracked and I noticed some worn down corners. Wait, did it look like a couple of those corners had been CHEWED? Maybe not, but where else is one's mind supposed to wander to when you're just lying there enjoying your pain? If it had been chewed, I thought, whatever chewed it has a really good chance of falling right on my face since that ceiling panel is right over my head. This was one of those thoughts that, as soon as it entered your head, you really wished you hadn't come up with it.

But seriously. How hard would it be to put something on the ceiling? Even the TV, had it been working, would have been too far down for me to see. My feet could have watched something, but as I was about to slide off the chair and onto the floor, it wouldn't have been anywhere in my view. (Plus, all of the TVs were upside down. Who installed these things, anyway?) But how about going old-school and putting up a picture? Or a poster? Or an awesome saltwater fish tank built right into the ceiling!! Ok, that might be a bit far-fetched. If they can't even get the TV to work they probably won't put in an aquarium, and if they did, it would probably be leaking and drip right onto my face.

While I couldn't see the TV at the station next to me, I could hear bits and pieces of it in between drilling noises. The dentist and hygienist could hear it a lot better than I could, though (what with my head being so close to the floor and all) and suddenly I heard one of the say something about a cruise. "Something happened on a cruise last night?" the hygienist asked.

My ears perked up. I had read that article on CNN this morning and knew the cruise ship had suffered a fire on board. "Hire!" I said, my mouth stuffed with rolled-up cotton, novocaine and assorted dental instruments and obviously unable to produce an f sound.

The two continued to talk between each other for a minute. I don't think anyone heard me, probably because any sound I made was muffled by the rubber on the hygienist's sneakers which were about two inches from my head. "What cruise ship was it? What happened exactly?" they wondered to each other.

"HIRE!" I said again, a bit louder, and was instantly reminded of Bill Cosby's stand-up with the bit about the dentist's office. I suddenly wondered if I should panic. Why could no one HEAR me? Was I actually unconscious and just dreaming? Help! HELP!!

"Fire?" the hygienist asked me. "Uh huh," I agreed, relieved that they could hear me and I didn't need to jump up out of my chair, rip out Mr. Thirsty and start knocking over small metal tables and stuff.

By the time it was all over, I was feeling like I'd like to produce LOTS of f sounds. But honestly, considering the circumstances, it wasn't too bad. I was out in under an hour, as promised, and aside from feeling hungry and being concerned with the sheer SIZE of my lips at that point in time, I was fine and happy to be going home to wait until I could finally eat something. And as I finally started to eat my lunch at almost 2 pm, with my lip still numb but starting to tingle, I felt more glad than ever that 3 weeks ago, at 42 years old, I finally began flossing at night before bed. I'm remembering more nights than not now, and I'm determined that I'm going to make this habit stick. It's just that important. Next on my to-do list, I'm calling the dentist's office about that whole ceiling thing. Even though I only plan on visiting them once every six months now, I'd still like something nice to look at.