I went to the Dentists office this week for my 6-month cleaning.
I hate going to the Dentist. Hate it. I fear it.
I get very anxious.
The same goes with getting my hair cut.
Once they put that “smock” around your neck, you’re there until they finish.
And it freaks me out.
As a child, I guess something must have happened while I was in the Chair. Something that my mind has hidden from my memory.
I don’t care so much about getting my hair cut or my teeth worked on. It’s being stuck in that Chair.
The Dental Hygienist sat me down, put protection glasses on me, and leaned me back.
I mentioned that I have twenty screws in my Jaw from Jaw Surgery and said I might have to take breaks to close my mouth.
My Jaw hurts badly when I open my mouth widely for an extended period.
I also have a teeny-tiny mouth which makes the Hygienist’s job that much harder.
She will sometimes put this spring “Apparatus” in my mouth to make my mouth open wider and stay open. It helps.
I close my eyes.
She begins scraping all of my teeth.
The top teeth get cleaned first, followed by the bottom teeth.
At different times I open my eyes and see her nose two inches from my face. She appears to be staring at my eyes, but I know she is looking into my mouth.
I feel weird staring at her while she works. So I close my eyes back.
My hands are clenched tightly.
She gets some electrical instruments out to help clean my teeth.
The sound it makes is that of fingernails scratching a Black-Board.
“You doing okay, Mr. Thomas?”
“We’re almost finished.”
I try to unclench my fists.
I can feel that my whole body is clenched up tight.
“Tighter than a 10-cent top,” as Andy Griffith might say.
I open my eyes again. Her nose is still two inches from my face.
Again, I feel funny staring at her while she is working. I close my eyes back.
I sing in my head. ♪She’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain when she comes…♪
More sounds. “Wheeee-eeeee-eeeeee-eeee.”
“Done! Now I’m going to Floss your teeth and get the Dentist to come in and look. Okay?”
The Hygentist Flosses me and then lets me rinse and spit.
The Dentist gives me a good Once Over and doesn’t see anything wrong.
I’m given my next appointment—6-Months.
I check out at the Front Desk and bid everyone farewell.
Next on my to-do list is a haircut.
I’m not quite mentally prepared for that just yet, though.
So, I’ll get that done within the next few days.