Dear Dental-Minded Americans,
You may have heard some sort of claptrap at one point or another in your lives that indicated that you should be going to the dentist every six months or so in order to maintain your dental health. I am here to tell you now that this is patently untrue, and that, in fact, going to the dentist will only make whatever dental problems you may have a bajillion times worse.
Observe: About six months ago, I decided to start going to the dentist, not because any of my teeth were particularly bothering me, but because my parents made it seem as though if I didn't go to the dentist soon, I would most likely be dead before my thirtieth birthday, as dental problems, especially undiagnosed ones, are evidently the number one killer among all age groups and races.
Over the past six months, I have gone from having what were undoubtedly unhealthy but perfectly nice and painfree teeth to having extreme sensitivity in pretty much all the teeth the dentist worked on (in one spot, so bad that I can't really chew on it, which will likely cause me to wear down the teeth on the opposite side of my mouth much faster, which will definitely end with my face being severely lopsided), a still-gaping hole where my wisdom tooth was pulled, and the sinking feeling that one of the teeth he worked on is just a millimeter larger than all the others, causing my bite to come down awkwardly.
And last night, while I was dilligently flossing, a piece of one of my teeth broke off. Just broke off. Which, I might add, was not a regular occurrence in my Pre-Dentistry days.
So now I have a hole between my front teeth where the Tooth Piece used to go, and a toothache that my aunt, who is a dental assistant, diagnosed as needing a root canal, which sounds wholly unpleasant, and one monster tooth that is bigger than all the others, and, to top it all off, my dentist keeps mailing me mysterious bills for $10, which I keep paying, because I don't know what else to do, and my dental insurance keeps mailing me even more mysterious letters claiming I had other coverage during several of the aforementioned procedures, and they want me to prove it. Which I am so not going to do.
In closing, no matter what anyone tells you-- Mr. Rogers, your parents, anyone-- do NOT go to the dentist, as it will only end in heartbreak. And toothbreak.
Hugs and kisses,
Kim
Kim
5 pipers piping:
Oh, I feel your pain. And I'm scheduled for an appointment next month, my first in two years. I am very scared. And I don't have dental insurance. And I'm almost positive that my baby tooth is going to have to come out, and that both of my bridges suck, and my receding gum--well that's never going to heal. It hurts when I eat anything too warm, too cold, or too sweet. And if it's too spicy, then that aggravates my heartburn, which is a whole other matter. In short, I will probably need a full set of dentures by the time I am 32, as well as a whole stomach.
Ack! Working for the dentist gave me all these paranoias and more. In fact, last night I dreamt I was carrying around a sack of my own teeth.
Shameful admission: I haven't been to the dentist since college. Now, I will grant you that I have one sensitive tooth, which I suspect lost its filling some years ago and now will likely need a root canal if not something worse and more embarassing. But the rest are fine. Fine, I tell you! I think I have much whiter and healthier looking teeth than most smokers.
If I go to the dentist, I'm going to find out that I have 20 cavities, two teeth in need of a root canal, periodontal disease and a pretty dire need for a cleaning.
No. I won't do it.
I meant to say, a whole NEW stomach.
The sack of teeth image is going to haunt me forever.
that's why i don't brush my teeth. you see, i was right all along! oh dental insurance?... one day i may live to see thee again.
I went to the dentist last week, and he practically begged me to get braces. "Your teeth are so lovely! They're just a little crooked." My well-known Jack o' the Lantern smile suggests he was engaging in some... what's the opposite of hyperbole? Metonymy? Apostrophe? Newspeak?
Anyway, he leaves the room, and the hygienist tells me the cold, hard facts: braces will only work for me if they pull out several teeth. So much for my beautiful smile.
Still, I find myself tempted to do it, just to be rid of my canines. Those mracken-fracken whistle-varmints cut my lips all the dang-tootin' time!
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