In about an hour I will be going off to the dentist’s office. As a child I was never afraid of the dentist. I would always look forward to holding long discussions with my dentist while she had two or more tools in my open mouth. I delighted in the squeaky clean feeling of my teeth when I walked out, and I thought the water gun thing she had was pretty neat too.
But now I am older and more aware that, eventually, I will go to the dentist’s office and I will get bad news. The sad truth is that we are all going to lose our teeth eventually. Some lose them earlier than others and in between the tooth-loss we can get cavities and all kinds of other bad mouth stuff. Trust me, I’ve looked at those horrifying posters in the dentist’s office.
Ever since I got my wisdom teeth removed in my senior year of high school, I have always left the dentist’s office with a sigh of relief. It’s not until you have experienced the worst that a dentist can offer do you realize just what they are capable of. Now I attend the dentist’s office with apprehension. What if I have a toothache? What if I get a cavity? What if they find I have gingivitis?
I already know what will happen if I have something wrong: HORRIBLE THINGS WILL HAPPEN. There’s no escaping the reality that, if anything goes wrong within your mouth, the dentist will have their way with you. They are all diabolical villains. You can tell because they wear white coats and gloves all the time.
We are talking about a group of people that enjoy sticking their hands in other people’s mouths. They have sharp tools that they use to attempt to replicate the sound of nails on a chalk board on your teeth! They utilize vile chemicals like fluoride which they stuff in your mouth uncomfortably and they laugh after they explain to you that you can’t swallow any of it because it’s poison. …yet your throat is so dry. There is a reason why they hired an ex-dentist to write all the Saw movies (source needed).
I can only imagine what a root canal would look like…
Against my will I would be strapped down to a table. Then the dentist would walk in with a drill laughing maniacally.
“Do you expect me to talk?” I would call defiantly,
“No Mister Asalone, I expect you to cry!”
(The drill turns on with a horrible high-pitched whine. Close up on my terror-stricken face…)
So until the dentist turns to me with that fake smile and says, “Good job Ryan, you are keeping your teeth very clean,” and hands me a free toothbrush, floss and travel-sized toothpaste, I will be on my guard. If she even gets close to me with that drill I’ve already picked out my escape route. …Through the window.