Random Thoughts...At The Dentist

Every six months or so, I find myself looking up at that weird non-directional operatory light used by dentists and dental hygienists around the world. This morning, 9am, my turn came again.

It's strange the things that go through your mind as the bonds of parental guilt hold you fast into that reclining and height-adjusting chair. Of course, your name is called and you follow the hygienist into the spot reserved for you for the next sixty minutes (depending on how much cleaning is required...). You lay down, and after the x-rays and the heavy metal apron, they go to work.

That's when the thoughts hit.

Did I do enough brushing/flossing/general cleaning in the past six months? That question will be answered in due time. And since the kind woman behind the mask using sharp pointy metal objects to do her job sees areas of my own teeth that I've never even seen, I wonder what's going through her mind.

The first thing she sees is all the metal back there. Yes, as a child, I did not follow the advice of parents, dentists, teachers, even some religious leaders to take better care of my teeth. I've got to think younger patients have more teeth and less metal fillings than those of my generation. As a kid I got cavities all the time. I don't remember my mom freaking out about it too much either. Maybe she did and I just ignored it. Funny, the things we remember.

And speaking of remembering, after Linda the Hygienist is done and we both await a final "a-ok" from Dr. King (DDS), I look out the window of what in our town is considered an ancient building. I see mountains to the north, sycamore trees almost devoid of leaves as a cold rain falls outside line the street. I remember those trees. Growing up, I passed them almost every day. They stood as sentinels silent guarding a small grocery store/deli/video rental establishment--a place we congregated to hang out and play Asteroids. It was the closest non-Atari video game for our pack of street punks.

Music from B98.7 is heard overheard, loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to distract either professional or patient More chit-chat. I pretend not to overhear conversations of others in other reclining and height-adjusting chairs where other non-directional operatory lights oversee their teeth, teeth that may or may not be filled with metal.

Dr. King declares all is right with the world--at least, the world of my teeth and I let out a relieved sigh. No more return appointments between now and six months from now. I am awarded with a small bag full of promotional items including toothpaste and floss. They'll join the others in the small drawer in our bathroom. I pay my bill, schedule a return trip when it just might be raining outside like it was then, only this time, the leaves will be new instead of in wet heaps at our feet.

Funny, the things that go through your mind at the dentist.