Just another day at the Dentist

"You're not perfect, and neither are your teeth."
-Husband

Ah, the dentist.  It all started a year ago.  Andy visited the dentist and came home with a "C" in dental care:  two cavities.  "Tisk tisk," I said with a prideful beam.  "I can't remember the last time I had a cavity.  Maybe you should brush more," I proclaimed as I pushed my pointer finger into his chest.

After Andy's dentist visit I thought maybe I should get a cleaning.  After all there were deals to be found on Groupon, so as soon as one popped up, I clicked, "Buy," and was off to get a makeover for my teeth.

I don't mind the dentist.  I don't have irrational fears about the little poker stabbing me, or that the dentist will hit on me (though it's been known to happen. . .ok only once, and my few dentist dates actually led to Andy and I dating.  When Andy heard there was competition, it was time to step it up. Give it up for dental hygiene!)

The summer Andy and I met. . .and then eventually starting dating.

I actually associate the dentist with Sonic the Hedgehog (not first dates), as that was the only video game exposure I had as a child inside the office of my pediatric dentist.  So as I get my teeth clean I often hear the sound of a blue spiky creature collecting gold rings.  Bling Bling Bling.

Fate came a knockin' that spring afternoon a year ago.  I was lowered back in the plush plastic chair and obediently opened and swished and spit.  Then the beloved x-rays came back.  I was about to get my dental report card.  I must say, I've been known to have all A's.  But it had been three years.  Do teeth get rusty?

Ain't no party like a tooth-decay party.
Yeah, I drew this on paint.
Yeah, paint still exists.

Mine must have been because the dentist kept spitting out numbers and abbreviations.  Surfaces were being penetrated by plaque monsters and decay was having a party with my molars.  The damage?  Six.  Six cavities.  If Andy got a "C" with two, then I was looking at failure for sure.

The true humility came when I left the office.  I had to report back to the homestead.  Sheepishly I recounted the toothy event and pulled out the folded piece of paper outlining the cost of the treatment.  Thankfully I'm married to a gracious, easy going man.  I'm sure he wanted to laugh and poke me in the chest with the words, "Looks like someone should brush their teeth more."  But there was just sympathy for the upcoming dental adventure.

It's been a slow process.  Two filled.  One crown.  I mean, do you really want to know all this?

I'm feeling especially transparent because I'm typing this as I wait in the dental office.  I was here for more fillings, but, of course, there was an issue with insurance.  So my consolation prize while I wait for the insurance piece to figure itself out is a cleaning.  Yaay.

I'm thankful I have teeth.  I just got to figure out how to shield them from the terrors of this world.  Maybe I should wear my plastic retainer more.

Too many Easter macaroons.

At least I got a goodie bag.

Happy Flossing.

(alana cavanaugh)