A Day Without Stains

I had my teeth cleaned yesterday.  I don't want to say where, except that it was in fact at a dentist.  I can't say who cleaned my teeth - I don't remember my hygienist's name - I barely know what she looks like, since she has to wear a mask or she'll catch horrible diseases from me (&/or vice versa).  She tsk tsked a lot.  She didn't believe that I flossed regularly.  Why should she?  My teeth are a mess.

I don't want to tell you where I go because what if - as that gripping documentary Marathon Man suggested - dentists are spiteful & psychotic?  (Also, Nazis!)  It seems to be a profession to which folks with a mild case of sadism might flock.  "I spend my day with my hands in strangers' mouths & I make a ton of money!"  Lots of people go to dental school.  Perhaps there are interesting psychological profiles online.

My mother, who has none of her original teeth, & hasn't for decades, doesn't trust dentists.  She thinks they're a racket - that they deliberately put in bad fillings so you'll have to replace them in a few years.  I'm sure she also believes they plant bacteria in one's mouth so it'll grow & cause problems the next time you visit.  Every six months!  Genius!  Neither of these, by the way, would qualify as "weird" beliefs of hers.  These seem downright sensible compared to some of the way-out nonsense she thinks happens in the world.

It took two hours for my teeth to be cleaned, although somewhere between thirty-five & fifty minutes was the duration of the actual cleaning.  The place just doesn't really appear to give a shit - unless it's for surgical or orthodontic procedures.  They suggested some for me.  Gave me pamphlets.  I got the distinct impression my dentist wanted to call her colleagues & tell them she'd hooked another one!

As I was waiting to find out if something in my x-rays raised any alarms, I sat across from a woman who appeared to be as frustrated with the wait as I was.  She was fidgeting & looking around (as if her dentist or hygienist might be wandering the halls purposefully) & clucking at the clock on the wall (which read 9:45 am).  When a masked, gowned woman emerged to call her in, she said, "I'm so sorry, Mrs. [Whatever Her Name Was], we're just running a little behind."

The woman said, very matter-of-factly, "A little early to be running behind, isn't it?"

That almost made the morning worth it.