Dentist

Dentist

My first visit to the dentist was traumatic. At six years old my mother thought it was time for a checkup. With little information about what was to happen, I entered the dentist’s office. I remember like it was yesterday. The antiseptic smell hit my olfactory receptors like punch in the nose. I sat in a huge chair that titled backwards like magic. The dentist stuck a needle in my mouth to numb my gums. That was the last straw. Then and there I vowed I would avoid the dentist like the plague.

Obviously, that wasn’t the last time in the dentist chair. Over the years I begrudgingly learned to accept my annual dental exam. Because I am a confessed sugarholic, I spent more than my fair share there. Most of my dentists were nice people who were sensitive to my fear and pain. I’ve discovered that some dental hygienists are a little rough though. Several years ago, I went to one who I swear got her training on You Tube. She not only made my gums burn but loosened a filling as well.

I have had enough dental procedures to last a lifetime. Root canals, crowns, wisdom teeth pulled as well as two molars, a bridge replacement, and chipped teeth glued back in place. I think about all I have left is having my teeth pulled and wear dentures – God forbid!

Max is my dentist now. I really like the guy. He has a great sense of humor and genuinely cares about this old man’s choppers. He’s a Minnesota boy so we have a lot to talk about as he explores my next cavity. He is gracious to Judy who likes him even more than me.

I have a separate expense column in my budget for the dentist. On an annual basis it is almost as much as my house payments. Well, I figure by the time I die I will have spent enough on dental care to pay for my funeral a dozen times over. I should not be surprised. This is what I get for having a sweet tooth.