I went for an urgent dental treatment yesterday after one part of my molar chipped off while I was brushing my teeth. Thanks to Mother Hen, I was able to pull some strings and get to see the dentist amidst her packed schedule.
The lady dentist is a very attractive and chatty lady who seems quite happy to conduct a monologue. I mean how was I supposed to talk when my mouth was stuffed with all kinds of gadgets and instruments?
The moment I sat down on the big dental chair, she peered inside (dentists love me because my mouth is so big!) and said, "Huh, you like to eat hard stuff. I can tell alot by looking at your teeth you know? The sharp edges are no longer sharp and the flat ones are getting flatter. Maybe you like to sit in front of the TV and munch on peanuts and dried cuttlefish..."
At this point, I wanted to protest but no use. I don't watch TV alot and hardly snack. They're probably worn out because I grind my teeth when I sleep.
When she asked "Do you floss?" I wanted to say "Of course! Twice a day! You can't tell how clean they are? " but I could only mumble "Uh-huh" as she examined my pearlies with the sickle probe.
I must say she's a really fast worker who could work on two fillings simultaneously, give instructions to her assistant and hold a conversation with me all at the same time. I was in and out of there in no time at all.
I never liked going to the dentist but yesterday's visit wasn't so scary afterall.
When we were in primary school, the sour-faced dental nurse would come into the class with a name list. I always prayed she wouldn't call my name. She would march us across the road, to the clinic up the hill, wielding a cane in case anyone of us strayed. We would wait nervously for our turn in the room that reeked of antiseptic and filled with all kinds of drilling and gurgling sounds. All kinds of painful cries from tooth extractions too. Oh what a horrible memory!