A visit to the dentist
There are many affable people who become significantly less likable on their jobs, like telemarketers and IRS auditors. Last week, I went to the dentist.
It had been a while since my last visit, and the dental hygienist greeted me politely as she told me to lie down on the dentist’s chair. At least the chair is comfortable, I thought, but only a minute later, the sharp metal tool I found scraping at the border between my teeth and gums dispelled any illusions that this was going to be fun.
After the preliminary cleaning and flossing, which had left me wishing for less crowded teeth, the next step was to brush my teeth. To you, that may seem innocuous enough. But it doesn’t work as well when someone else is doing the brushing.
The mechanized toothbrush spun at a furious rate, reverberating through all my teeth and spraying some kind of gritty toothpaste everywhere. I was allowed, thankfully, to occasionally rinse. However, at the dentist’s, this consists of squirting a thin stream of water into the mouth, only to have it immediately sucked out through the funny-looking nozzle of a tube. I wondered how long brushing would take if I rinsed this way at home, while many more particles accumulated at the back of my mouth.
The hygienist was obviously sympathetic upon noticing that my gag reflex indeed worked, but she still seemed annoyed that I wasn’t opening my mouth wide enough. I was only thinking about the future, concentrating on that hypothetical moment when the ordeal would be over.
Finally, it was over, but there was still the fluoride treatment. The hygienist handed me a cup of foamy pink liquid and ordered me to swish it in my mouth. She didn’t offer me a choice of flavor.
They used to always offer three flavors—bubblegum, mint, or grape was the usual selection—and I would never have a preference. This time, they must have remembered my indecision or more likely, realized I was too old for that.
As I poured the sharp liquid into my mouth, however, for the first time I wondered if a more prudent selection of flavor could have spared me some misery. Whatever the taste was supposed to mimic, I could not identify it with anything edible.
Thirty seconds later, having passed this ultimate trial, I asked for a glass of water to purge the offending taste. No such luck. Apparently, any food or drink within the next thirty minutes would ruin the whole treatment.
Luckily, though, no cavities. I was safe from the dentist’s more sinister toys for now.
As I walked out of the dentistry, the strong aftertaste of the fluoride solution hung in my mouth. It reminded me, unfortunately, of a Robitussin cough drop I once tried. I have never considered taking another Robitussin cough drop since.
Thirty minutes later, as soon as I could fill my mouth with a part of my lunch, I guess it wasn’t so bad. There was, at least, the consolation that I had missed two periods of school. Even so, I’m not exactly excited about the next appointment.
— Alex Zhai