Dentrificionado.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010 at 7:33AM I've never really minded going to the dentist. My teeth are good. I've had only a few cavities my whole life. I never wore braces (although I could have used them on my bottom teeth; oh, well).
The last cleaning, however, was just bizarre. I had a new hygienist. She was like a character from an SNL skit. The "Debbie Downer" of dental health. First, she chastised me about the whole mitral valve prolapse issue. I used to take penicillin before each cleaning--just in case some gunk got into my bloodstream and lodged in the heart valve that doesn't quite close. A couple of years ago, physicians decided this precaution wasn't really necessary, so--with the approval of our family doctor--I don't do it anymore.
Well. I got a lecture about that. In fact, she pretty much told me I would likely be dead within the week. Nice, right? The bright spot: my family would know why. No penicillin.
Then, she told me I should never let my kids swim in the deep end of the pool, because she knew someone whose daughter's hair had gotten tangled in the drain.
Then, she advised against ever entering a natural body of water. Flesh-eating bacteria. They're everywhere. Everywhere.
Hands-down, the worst cleaning ever. She also taught me how to floss. You heard me. Not told me I should be flossing, but TAUGHT ME HOW TO FLOSS.
I could have understood if my teeth had problems. But they didn't. They don't. They were fine. My gums? Just right. Cavities? Nary a one. It's like she just had to carp about something.
And I was trapped there, like a turtle on my back. I couldn't even ask her to stop, because her hands were in my mouth. From one perspective (hers), she made an excellent career choice. From another perspective (mine), she should stay at home, riling herself up in front of cable news all day.
Why is this on my mind? It's been six months, of course. I'm going back today. When the receptionist called to confirm my appointment, I did something I rarely do. I made a special request.
"I feel awful for even mentioning this, but could I possibly have a different hygienist this time?"
She didn't even hesitate. I wonder how many other patients have had a similar experience.
Erin K. Rice
Another A+ for my teeth and gums. And my hygienist was a pure delight. It's good to know one part of my karma has been fixed. Now for that elusive publishing contract....
Reader Comments (3)
I actually love my hygieniest except for one thing -- she assumes I'm the same type of mom that she is, so she is always saving fantastic insider information for me. Like where to find the best prices on Juicy Couture for my three-year-old.
What? You mean you don't want your toddler strutting around with the word "Juicy" tattooed on her heinie? Huh.
I've never had a hygienist that I liked. They seem to never shut up or stop asking questions while they are probling inside your mouth. The offer useless advise and aske too many questions about topics that are none of their business. They are alarmist about everything. Most hygienist are womean cut from the same cloth - chit chat about everything, not all that bright about the real world