I went to the dentist this morning. I got a form where I had to fill in all kinds on information regarding my health. I can understand why the dentist would ask for HIV/Aids, body fluids being a keynote of every dental examination, but there was a lot of them.
Bad breath? See above.
Mouth breather? What, you mean like a dog? Well, I must admit I breathe with my mouth when my nose is closed or obstructed. Let’s call it ‘occasional mouth breather’.
Psychological issues? WTF?
Why does he want to know whether I have any psychological problems? Fearing that I might break loose from the chair, snatching that lil’ mirror and reflect my way out of there? Besides, if I’m a schizophrenic or a paranoid, you’d think I’d just lie to the form, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, he then wanted to know when my last dentist appointment was.. Hmm.. It could’ve been 2003. But I don’t really think so. 2002? I put 2001, since I liked the movie, but I have to say I couldn’t really remember. There was no box for "long time ago in galaxy far away".
He shook my hand, which I found kind of awkward, them being in another person’s gap just seconds ago. But what the heck, might as well go along with it. As he put the very tiny vacuumcleaner into my mouth, sucking out all the saliva I’d spent the good part of the morning making, and looked into the bright, white light, I wondered why the hell anyone would like to be a dentist. So I asked him.
– ‘Yh doth eny-on ant-obe adentst?
– Why do you talk like that?
– Right… You’ve got no holes here. I understand you want to remove the plaque?
– Please don’t nod. This is expensive equpiment hanging from your cheeks. We’re going to do the ultrasound now.
– Ultra, with an r.
– Buh I’mno-a-woma!
– Ultrasound on the teeth, sir.
– Aaaaaah. Uhtasoun onde-‘eeh. (wtf?)
So, I was lying there while the dentist checked my teeth for babies, removing the plaque tooth by tooth, when I suddenly got this urge to laugh. It wasn’t a nervous laugh, it was just the entire situation. Here I was, lying on a quite comfortable chair lacking armrests, while a grown, unshaved man had his hands in my mouth. And I was drooling. Drooling so much they had a dedicated tube for it.
Must be fun doing that, by the way. On the left-side of the mouth, by the primary tool you’re using (drill or tiny, tiny mirror or whatever), you’ve got the blower. This fucker just blows air away. On the other hand, that is on the right-side, you’ve got the sucker, that sucks air. You can probably make tiny surfing waves in the patient’s mouth, if you combine skill and saliva. Or if you suck enough air to a cavity, you can blow bubbles, if you can manage to place the blower underneath the saliva without blowing it away first. Or clean your ears with it.
I think the downside must be the tounge. Every profession has its catch. For dentists, there is nothing more beautiful than a mouth without a tongue. The tounge is sensitive, so you can’t just peck it with the drill ’cause it’ll start bleeding, but at the same time it’s just like Keanu Reeves popping in; What’s up dude? Duuude. Check this shit out. Oh, man, dude. NOT MINDING HIS OWN BUSINESS.
I love pretty, young, female dentists, though.
You can just lie there, on their bossom, while they do their thing.
Pain can be sexy, I’m just saying.
But there’s no pitching a tent here, I reminded myself, as the very male dentist had a go at the backside of my lower teeth. Then I started to think about Star Trek. I wasn’t sure whether I’d ever seen anyone on Star Trek have their teeth checked. But they all have white teeth. In sickbay, they often check eyes, that’s mostly all they do when they aren’t waving that scanner in front of everything. But I’ve never seen Kirk call for a dental examination. Must be all that food they eat, that beamer thing that’s not real food. Maybe everyone has plastic teeth like old people. No, I think I recall seeing Kirk brush his teeth.
Star Trek should’ve had a dentist. After all. the only thing in our modern society that looks like something from a science fiction movie, is dentist equipment. Most of it is in white or metallic colour, everything is sterile, and curvely designed and can be shifted around with ease. You never see a dentist curse because the little tray with the hatchets is stuck, or the light needs changing in that small sized sun. And dentists, man or female, are always calm. Just like people who’ve been frozen for intergalactic transportation for thousands of years.
And it’s the only place you’ve got a place dedicated for spitting.
AAAAH! FUCK, SHIT, THAT HURT!
Suddenly I remembered how fucking unbelieveable painful a dental examination can be. Tears forming in my eyes just because my lips are pushed over, and my gum is exposed to that pointy thing. I wondered what they do when Mick Jagger is up for a dentist appointment? Please, Mr. Jagger, sir. Could you just wrap your lips around the back of your head and your chin? Here’s a straw you can breathe through.
Then I was done. He told me to come back in a year, washed his hands, shook mine, and sent me to the receptionist to pay. For less than an hour I had to pay 850 NOK (about 135 US dollars). Oh, THAT’s why anyone would dream of becoming a dentist.