Scary monsters
Like everyone else, I'm scared of dental visits. Okay, maybe I'm a tish more scared than most, 'cause I'm the only one I know who's ever puked from anxiety during a dental visit. Not before the visit, mind you, but right there in the chair. I'd rather visit a proctologist; at least there they're not probing my orifice with needle-sharp implements and grinding away with power tools.
On top of that, the last time I went to the dentist's, the hygienist nicked a blood vessel that had me bleeding for four days. Not just a little blood either, but along the lines of me waking up in the morning with tablespoon-sized clots in my mouth. That was [cough, cough] years ago.
So Dulci finally got me to go by making the appointment and promising some very inviting carnal rewards. Sigh. I'm not made of stone, you know.
It went fairly well. No cavities and healthy teeth and gums. The dentist says I do mighty good work with a brush and floss. Damn straight, I think to myself, it's what I have to do to keep from ever seeing you. The hygienist used a housekeeping analogy in talking about my mouth. "Good shape, very neat, no clutter, no sign of mice or cockroaches, no trash lying around, no stains on the furniture," she says, "BUT you've got a lot of dust bunnies in those hard-to-reach places!"
So she took about an hour and a half cleaning my teeth. Actually much less than that, but I had to ask for several breaks so as to not flee in a screaming panic. It helped that she was very pretty and kept resting her chest on my forehead. And no blood, no machines, all hand tools. These were the most understanding dental people I've ever been to.
Maybe I'll start to seriously begin considering going again in six months...
On top of that, the last time I went to the dentist's, the hygienist nicked a blood vessel that had me bleeding for four days. Not just a little blood either, but along the lines of me waking up in the morning with tablespoon-sized clots in my mouth. That was [cough, cough] years ago.
So Dulci finally got me to go by making the appointment and promising some very inviting carnal rewards. Sigh. I'm not made of stone, you know.
It went fairly well. No cavities and healthy teeth and gums. The dentist says I do mighty good work with a brush and floss. Damn straight, I think to myself, it's what I have to do to keep from ever seeing you. The hygienist used a housekeeping analogy in talking about my mouth. "Good shape, very neat, no clutter, no sign of mice or cockroaches, no trash lying around, no stains on the furniture," she says, "BUT you've got a lot of dust bunnies in those hard-to-reach places!"
So she took about an hour and a half cleaning my teeth. Actually much less than that, but I had to ask for several breaks so as to not flee in a screaming panic. It helped that she was very pretty and kept resting her chest on my forehead. And no blood, no machines, all hand tools. These were the most understanding dental people I've ever been to.
Maybe I'll start to seriously begin considering going again in six months...