Dentist

image courtesy of Flickr

Off I go to sit in a tilt-a-chair and get my teeth scraped. I don't seem to get cavities any longer, since every tooth that could be filled is now silver. However, that scraping thing... the old gums have receded, apparently, and the tech doesn't seem to heed my cries of pain when her torture device dental tool goes for a big flake of tarter or whatever it is called.

So, waah and whine. Yes, I know I'm lucky to have access to regular checkups and I'll be happy when I'm old gumming my apple crisp, but right now I dread several things:

Loss of time on my new novel. I want to edit that thang. Waah!

The taste of dentist in my mouth. It's going to linger for several hours; I can already feel it. Blech!

The free little pack of floss destined to sit in a drawer with all the other free little packs of floss. Note - must clean out that drawer after I edit the novel.

Hunger - dentist appointments always seem to come at lunchtime. Boo!

Toy chest - maybe I would like an eraser or styrofoam plane too??? Just sayin

Boredom - nothing to do but listen to the hygienist and not talk back, what with the glaved fingers in my epiglottis and all.

Oh, I guess she might put on the Chew for me, but that returns us to the hunger issue.

No, look - I'm being a big old baby here, but I've had to physically restrain myself from canceling this appointment for those reasons. Nothing to do but suck it up (along with a lot of saliva) and suffer through.

Next on the fun to-do list : Boob squish day!

ONE of them is smiling. (Wiki commons)

OUCH

My daughter had to have four teeth extracted yesterday. They were only baby teeth, but they had long roots and were crowding her adult incisors, so the orthodontist proclaimed they had to go.

This set into motion an entire month of misadventures. First I took her to the dentist, and they said the teeth were too difficult to remove - I would have to take her to an "orthodontic surgeon."

That's a nice, friendly phrase that won't strike terror into the heart of the 8-year-old who hears it - no, not at all.

I called the surgeon and found that we had to go in for a consultation first. This meant dragging my kid out of school early and taking her to the scary surgeon. I know it's a good thing that Kid likes school, but it's a pain when I show up to take her to Not Fun places and she doesn't want to leave.

Once we arrived, I was so frazzled I lost my keys in the office and had to have the entire staff help me look for them (they slipped between the cushions of the chairs in the waiting room, in case you were wondering.)

"It's your professionalism I admire"

Ever get a hot flash so violent that you sweat like an outfielder under the broiling sun in Arizona at noon? Yeah, that, except mine was from embarrassment, not hormones.

Once I found the damn keys, I scheduled the appointment for the actual extraction. They promised me that the teeth would come out easily and Kid would only need a local and laughing gas.

Kid tells me she doesn't want the laughing gas. I blurt out, "But, sweetie, that's the fun part." Mother of the year, y'all.

Repeat the 'picking up from school' debacle two weeks later. Arrive at "surgeon," and kid crawls to the back of the truck and refuses to come out. I bribe, cajole, promise, and finally threaten. Start to feel like Hannibal Lechter / that dude with the lotion in the basket.

Bring kid into office and watch as she is strapped into chair. She does smile when she gets the nitrous oxide gas. SEE???

Teeth pulled. I'll gloss over those details.

Mouth packed with gauze, and we go back to the car. (I strapped the keys to one leg a la Lara Croft this time.)

Yeah, Tooth Fairy! Go Tooth Fairy!

Get home, and kid decides that all the pain was My Fault. She begins to complain for the next few hours at the top of her lungs. Refuses pain meds, jello, ice cream, movie, iPod... 

I find myself ready to offer her a Paris vacation or the entire island of Cyprus. 

Hot flash intensifies (mine). Kid insists she looks like a "Nerdy hamster" now with her incisors gone.

Sneak tylenol into kid. Tirade stops. 

I look at those teeth in the little baggie again and realize she was really very brave throughout the entire ordeal. 

Tooth fairy stops by and leaves gift and lots of dollars.

Brave girl goes to school; I see I'll have to boil the blood-stained sheets. Thank the heavens it's all over.

You know, she doesn't look like a Nerdy Hamster now... she looks like a cute, brave hamster.