I Didn't Even Get to Rinse and Spit

Well, going to the dentist is one of those experiences in life nobody particularly likes, but a necessity nonetheless. I went through a patch in the mid-1990s where I was moving so much I went a couple of years without visiting the dentist. My mouth was such a mess by the time I got into the dentist's office that I've tried to stay on top of it ever since.

Since it's been six months since my last checkup, I decided I needed to get my teeth cleaned. Now normally, this would not present an issue. You move to a new city, you find a new dentist. Except I haven't found a permanent residence yet. Finding a dentist where I'm living now would create tangible evidence that I am 40, divorced, and living with my mother, so I didn't want to go to their dentist (who was my dentist for a period of time too).

Then it struck me: I work at a major research university! Why not go to the dental school? That way they can fix me up and send me on the way, and some kid gets to practice on me. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

I had a 2 hour "diagnostic" appointment today with two dental students and two faculty dentists. (Again, I have no dental problems, just wanted a cleaning!) The students were very young and sincere. The result of that appointment was that I need to make a follow up appointment with a more senior dental student in a few weeks. The faculty member I talked to sort of muttered "all you need is a good cleaning" and "this is the way the students learn." So I asked, "so I'll get my teeth cleaned at my next appointment?" The answer: no, that will happen at the THIRD appointment. THIRD APPOINTMENT? I've never wanted to see a dental hygenist with that sharp metal tool and cavitron thing that blasts water in my mouth so much in my life.

Well, the head and neck diagnostic exam was an interesting bonus and my blood pressure is pretty normal, so I've got that going for me.