I hate going to the dentist. And I hate cats.
Well, hate is a rather strong word, and I wouldn't really use the word "strong" when describing myself...unless we're talking muscles. I'm not even kidding.
So I went to the dentist this morning. I was running rather late, so I called ahead to let them know I really was coming. The nurse lady who doubles as secretary-phone-answerer told me that I wasn't listed in the schedule. Not today, or yesterday, tomorrow, the rest of the week. Or ever. Hmmm, that's interesting, I replied. I'm holding my scheduling card right here. (Oh well, now I don't have to go to the dentist! Wahoo!) But they fit me in a couple hours later. So I had lunch with my mom and came back.
I drug my feet to that wretched door and I hesitantly passed the desk into the waiting room. It smelled like teeth. And latex. Little play house restaurant sets were folded in each corner and a giant lego table took up the window space. Enchanted played on the screen hanging from the ceiling. I glanced to my left. Old magazines. The kind that give you the heebie jeebies when you touch them -- you know, they're probably recycled and at one point a homeless man used them for pillows or blankets and then some kid drooled all over it and then about a million more sat down in the chair after someone left the booklet sitting there. The old man hobo child mouth butt seat magazines.
I picked one that didn't look to bad and proceeded to read the entire thing. Finally the tooth smell got to me and I rose, looking for my dentist. If she wasn't coming to me, I was going to her. We met halfway and I was led to the torture chair. She wasn't really my dentist, but a not-quite-professional nurse type. She spent about an hour cleaning my teeth. She scraped and scrubbed each one, and with each little swipe my skin crawled and I fought my gag reflexes. The worst is the spit suction tube. She sprays my teeth with lightly watered down air and then sucks it all back up. I always wondered if she expected me to keep my mouth open and dry, but every time she turns her back to me, I clamp my mouth shut. Gulping. Swallowing the nasty pond of saliva all her prodding is excreting out of me. You know those shivers you felt just reading the word "excreting" ? That's how I feel the entire time I'm sitting in that chair.
After the cleaning lady finished up, my dentist came in. This man has been watching over my teeth my entire life. He kinda reminds me of a horse. He pried my mouth open, tapped each tooth and called it good. I've never minded him, even if he does smell like teeth. He's a good man.
On the drive home, I took some photos. Really, I was driving and taking photos. I want to remember what Iowa looks like in the summer. This might be my last one for awhile. Then I decided to take a little trip down my favorite gravel road. I guess I don't remember it so well because I got lost. I ended up nearly 8-10 miles away when I finally surfaced. Pavement is a breath of fresh air when you are lost in a maze of dust, trees, corn, and cattle.
Well, hate is a rather strong word, and I wouldn't really use the word "strong" when describing myself...unless we're talking muscles. I'm not even kidding.
So I went to the dentist this morning. I was running rather late, so I called ahead to let them know I really was coming. The nurse lady who doubles as secretary-phone-answerer told me that I wasn't listed in the schedule. Not today, or yesterday, tomorrow, the rest of the week. Or ever. Hmmm, that's interesting, I replied. I'm holding my scheduling card right here. (Oh well, now I don't have to go to the dentist! Wahoo!) But they fit me in a couple hours later. So I had lunch with my mom and came back.
I drug my feet to that wretched door and I hesitantly passed the desk into the waiting room. It smelled like teeth. And latex. Little play house restaurant sets were folded in each corner and a giant lego table took up the window space. Enchanted played on the screen hanging from the ceiling. I glanced to my left. Old magazines. The kind that give you the heebie jeebies when you touch them -- you know, they're probably recycled and at one point a homeless man used them for pillows or blankets and then some kid drooled all over it and then about a million more sat down in the chair after someone left the booklet sitting there. The old man hobo child mouth butt seat magazines.
I picked one that didn't look to bad and proceeded to read the entire thing. Finally the tooth smell got to me and I rose, looking for my dentist. If she wasn't coming to me, I was going to her. We met halfway and I was led to the torture chair. She wasn't really my dentist, but a not-quite-professional nurse type. She spent about an hour cleaning my teeth. She scraped and scrubbed each one, and with each little swipe my skin crawled and I fought my gag reflexes. The worst is the spit suction tube. She sprays my teeth with lightly watered down air and then sucks it all back up. I always wondered if she expected me to keep my mouth open and dry, but every time she turns her back to me, I clamp my mouth shut. Gulping. Swallowing the nasty pond of saliva all her prodding is excreting out of me. You know those shivers you felt just reading the word "excreting" ? That's how I feel the entire time I'm sitting in that chair.
After the cleaning lady finished up, my dentist came in. This man has been watching over my teeth my entire life. He kinda reminds me of a horse. He pried my mouth open, tapped each tooth and called it good. I've never minded him, even if he does smell like teeth. He's a good man.
On the drive home, I took some photos. Really, I was driving and taking photos. I want to remember what Iowa looks like in the summer. This might be my last one for awhile. Then I decided to take a little trip down my favorite gravel road. I guess I don't remember it so well because I got lost. I ended up nearly 8-10 miles away when I finally surfaced. Pavement is a breath of fresh air when you are lost in a maze of dust, trees, corn, and cattle.
I sewed a dress with my gram this afternoon. The stupid devil cat wouldn't leave us alone. I'm not sure why I feel such animosity towards my pet. My sister's pet. I feel more anger and animosity to this calico spotted fatso of a feline than I do toward any human being. Maybe that's a good thing.
We had one of my favorite casseroles for dinner. Yum.
2 comments:
Erika Dick, I despise everything about the dentist except for three things: the hobo-tested magazines (It's my only chance to read People and get away with it!), the comfortable, reclining chair with beautiful pictures on the ceiling to look at, and good, straight, mostly white teeth as a result of my visits. Besides those things, I would take a doctor's visit over a dentist visit anyday. I have had some humorous cleaners though, like the one that hit on me when I was 18, or the one that told me her entire life story, and THEN proceeded to clean my teeth (why couldn't she do them simultaneously?). I also don't like cats, but love casserole.
Cats are the worst.
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