Today, I went to the dentist. Now, let me start out by telling you that I pretty much detest going to the dentist. I hate having someone tug around the bottom of my teeth for an hour, poking and prodding and making my gums bleed. I abhor the way hygienists ask questions about school and life, and you either have to talk around their hands and tools, or hold up the proceedings to say, "I'm taking French four, Honors English, the lowest math class possible, chem-friggingstry, acting, music, and everything else". Yeah. The dentist's stopped being awesome after the treasure chest was closed to me, when I turned thirteen.
I've also had general bad luck when it comes to my dentists, as in the people. Multiple, because they tend to die or succumb to a similar fate. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but the first one did die, of being ancient, and the last one just had a stroke, so couldn't be a dentist anymore.
The situation is actually very tragic. He was a very sweet old man with big glasses and a balding head. At the end of every visit, he would shuffle into the room, and peer down into my mouth. I always liked the fact that I was able to see a clear reflection of the inside of my mouth in his glasses. It is far more entertaining to actually watch someone prodding and poking and stabbing around in your mouth than to just experience it. "Bite and smile", he would command. I chomped my teeth together and grinned for him. "Perfect. Beautiful teeth. You're so lucky." He said the same thing every time, unfailingly finding my dentures perfect and beautiful.
Well, then he stroked, and now I have a new dentist. Two new dentists actually. As opposed to my old dentist's office, which was just a team of one dentist and four hygienists, located in a little house, now I go to an office, with two dentists and God knows how many hygienists.
The first thing I noticed walking in was the smell of the office, sterile and rubbery, like latex lathered in hand sanitizer. The waiting room was uniform and neat. I filled out my forms, waited, and was scooted into a room.
I almost wish I could be a dentist someday so that I could fix one of the biggest issues present to mankind: Decor in doctor's and dentist's offices. Without fail, there's always one of the following:
-A mass produced Georgia O'Keefe print. Of a flower, obviously.
- Norman Rockwell. Clever and mildly entertaining.
-Other floral/scenic/quaint paintings. Always stomach-innards wretchingly boring.
My point is this: When you're sitting in the dentist or doctor's office for an hour, an hour and a half, there's never anything interesting to look at. This problem must be fixed, because I think it clearly causes depression (Fun fact: Dentists have the highest suicide rate of any occupation, closely followed by psychiatrists). The hygienist gave me a pair of HUGE, ugly sunglasses as I sat in the big victim's chair, telling me that they were for my eyes, so they didn't hurt in the bright light. Oh. Okay. The last time I had been handed sunglasses in the dentists office, I was eleven. Great.
But there was nowhere to put the sunglasses to reject them, and no polite way to put them aside without betraying what I was thinking, which was something along the lines of "I'm sixteen. I don't want these. I don't even want to be here. Please don't poke and prod, metaphorically and literally. Kay, thanks, bye."
She poked and prodded and scraped my teeth and gums for about thirty minutes. It was unbearable. By far, this is one of the most uncomfortable feelings in the world. I especially hate it when they take that little hook and get it between your two middle bottom teeth, and tug. I'm always scared that they'll pull it out.
This new hygienist also didn't tell me to rinse when she polished my teeth. Instead, she used that sucky thing that pretty much sucks out your soul, and all the moisture in your mouth. It got me thinking- When you're younger, they tell you that it's called Mr. Thirsty. Obviously that's not actually what it's called. You're supposed to use it or ask for it for different procedures in the dentists office, but they never tell you it's real name, and no adult is going to say, "Can I use Mr. thirsty?"
I hate the dentists.
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