Here is my hysterically funny teenage daughter’s account of her trip to the dentist. Enjoy:
Live Blogging My Trip to the Dentist
Ho-hum. The dentist. No problem. Hello, receptionist! Why yes, I am here. Why yes, I will take a seat amongst these rather old magazines.
My appointment was five minutes ago. Why are they waiting? Is something horribly wrong? Is the dentist being held at gunpoint by some cavity ridden mobster?! Oh, no, wait. A smiling nurse type lady is calling me back.
Great, now they want me to sit in one of those dentist chairs. Those things are so awkward; I never know I should lean back while they’re getting ready or if I should sit up. I know! I’ll sit sideways. That way, my legs can hang over the edge like in a normal chair. I bet this looks really stupid.
Oh great, they want to take x-rays. Now I have to wear that stupid apron thing. I know it’s to protect my innards from radiation, but that doesn’t make me any happier about it. Plus I have to bite down on this weird plastic thing; is there lead in it, too? Is it protecting me from tongue cancer? Is that even a thing? Oh, it’s done. I feel all… irradiated. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for some sort of super hero power to develop later.
Ow. I’m being poked in the mouth. Why does tooth cleaning have to be so unpleasant? Hey, the nurse is saying I have nice teeth. Does that mean I don’t have any cavities? Can I go now?
Crap. I have two cavities. Why meeeee? And they’re on both sides of the same tooth. I bet that tooth is plotting against me! I feel so betrayed. Oh great, the dentist is here. I guess my teeth are clean. They feel shiny. Except for the tooth with cavities; it feels villainous.
What if the cavities are really bad? What if my entire mouth is affected and I need dentures? What if I can never eat again?!?
Apparently the traitor tooth has some sort of childhood issues — as in, from my childhood. The dentist says the tooth is weak, possibly from some sort of trauma around the time I was two. Funnily enough, I had a mishap involving a rug, tripping, and an unforgiving fireplace when I was two. Could there be a correlation?
My mouth feels minty, and slightly traitorous. I’m free… for NOW. I have to come back later to get those cavities taken care of, because that’s the kind of girl I am — one who would prefer her mouth did not fall off. In any event, I have been released into the world, along with a free toothbrush.