I went to the dentist this morning while Annie and Maddie were at preschool. It was kind of nice not to have to find a babysitter. I was there a couple of minutes early, so I sat down and looked at one of the magazines. Ah, bliss. Then I was called back by a hygenist I haven't seen before. (We've been going to the same dentist for the last 8 years or so.)
As I settled in the chair, there was the familiar discussion of how to pronounce my name. (Duh-nay. Rhymes with Janae and Renae. Why is that so hard?) My hygenist of the day said she was going to sit this time. Usually she stands while cleaning teeth. (Seriously? Does that sound odd to anyone else?)
I was tilted back in my chair, and she grabbed her metal picks.
Now, going to the dentist has never been a favorite of mine. Sharp metal objects and strange people in my face does not lend itself to relaxing. It's not like I was preparing to take a nap or anything. I was prepared to be a little uncomfortable. But I wasn't exactly prepared for what happened.
To say this lady did not have a gentle touch would be a huge understatement. I peeked at her after the 2nd tooth to make sure she wasn't angry or something. Was she trying to see if she could "give" me a cavity with her sharp pointy whatever-it-is-called? I was half prepared to see The Hulk staring back at me.
She rinsed my mouth, and sucked it dry, a lot more than anyone else ever has. In fact, she would keep sucking out moisture until I was about bone dry. She must not like saliva at all, which is a little odd considering her profession. Or maybe it was the blood. My gums were scraped a lot more than usual. I was just waiting for the "You need to floss more" comments. But maybe she thinks all gums look like that during a cleaning, since it never came.