Off to the Dentist

4/18/2017

I'm off to the dentist this morning for a cleaning.  My dentist is very nice and gentle, but that makes no difference to me.  Nope, I'm from a generation when dentistry was frightening.  I hated going then and I still do now.

Growing up, there was that little fluted dish/table that held all of the instruments of torture.  Instead of the drill being put discretely off to one side, back then it was in the forefront absolutely where you could see it.  Unlike today, drills were very noisy and something I really dreaded.

My dentist know about my irrational fears, so when he does have to do any drilling, always stops to make sure that I'm okay.  Truthfully, I'm not okay, but once the dentist has started, I'd be a fool to have him stop altogether and try again another day.  

When I was in high school, some dentist convinced my mother that I had too many (really?) teeth.  These weren't teeth that were crossed over one another, or anything even remotely like that.  But, she gave the go ahead, and two perfectly good teeth were pulled out on the bottom.  After having my teeth pulled, mom wanted to go shopping for clothes for my sister.  I remember very little from that day, except wanting to go home.

As an adult, I have very soft teeth, prone to cavities.  So a simple check-up generally reveals yet another tooth that needs to be drilled on.  I told my dentist that I'd actually prefer having all my teeth pulled out and replaced with implants.  Go figure that he's not in favor of that idea.  It would be absurd to do this, I know, but there are days like today that I dread going to the dentist and having the hygienist poking and probing in my mouth.  Give me a doctor's visit most any time!

This morning, the girls ran outside with one of my brand new slippers.  They had chewed the other slippers into nothing more than bits of fluff.  I ordered a new pair in super bright pink.  And, when I went into the den this morning, a slipper was missing.  I bounded, okay I walked slowly, to the backyard and sure enough there was my slipper.  A bit dirty and with a small bite out of the back, but still wearable.  I was able to smack one dog with the slipper, the other one, not being actually stupid, went running.  My slippers are now in a safe place.  Jeff swears, and I agree, that tearing apart something that we've worn, smells like their human and it's okay to chew on them.  I should feel honored, I suppose that the girls want to be all warm and fuzzy with my things, but unfortunately I don't feel that way.  If I feel anything, it's that I will have to go back on Amazon and buy "x".  I am such a regular buyer with Amazon, that I think I should get a Christmas card or something!  What I'd really like to do is to take a tour of one of their sorting facilities, I think that would be so much fun.

Okay, the time is near and I better get myself in gear.

P