D U I

Hi guys,
Today's entire post was written from the dentist office. I was in for a deeep cleaning. When they did that to my Sebring, it was $450.00. This is more. And I have to go back next week to do the other side. I have two fears. I have an entirely rational fear of heights. Now fear of lime jello would be silly. But you can get hurt or seriously killed from messing around with heights. Here's how it goes with me. When I am up high, like at the top of a light house or the edge of a cliff, it's as if there is a vacuum drawing me into the endless shaft of air. Well not quite endless. My leg muscles tense up and feel as though they might involuntarily spring me into a triple gainer or just a nose dive. Only problem is usually when your nose dives, the rest of you follows. At no other time and really not even at that time, do I have a desire to die. The other fear is probably sillier. It is a fear of not being allowed to swallow, like in a dentist chair. I am what dental people call a gagger. Not to my face of course. I even gag myself sometimes when I brush my teeth on Saturday nights. I never skip Saturday night teeth brushing. It's a habit of mine. One of the 59 habits of highly effective, extremely successful, always confident, forever loved, respected and admired people. Only 58 more to go! It's really a problem at the dentist office.

Here's how it went today. First, my dental lady. I'll call her Wendi, because I don't know her name and wouldn't embarrass her anyway. Wendi is very nice. First, she rubs a topical gel or cream on my gums, for a numbing effect, just the right side for today. She applies this with three 2-foot long Q-tips from across the room. I have to keep these in my mouth for 17 minutes. One of the many reasons I never smoked is that I would gag on a cigarette. I know because I gagged on the candy ones. I thought that the cream/gel was nice. Then the head hauncho, better described as the mouth hauncho, comes in with plastic gloves on. Now these guys wear all manner of protective clothing. They wear eyeglasses, face mask, a welders hood over that, plastic gloves and under the appropriate holiday smock, they wear a full wet suit. Don Quixote would thoroughly thrash his own mother for protective gear like this. I couldn't see what the dental guru had behind his back, but soon I was made aware. It was a quarter inch, foot long needle with the football pump syringe!. That's what the numbing gel was for! The first two or three jabs brought a dull prolonged pain. Then came the last one,between my tongue and the back of my jaw. I think the other end of that needle came out between my shoulder blades. Then he firmly jiggled it for full effect. Dr. D, not his real initial, is nice too. He always plays happy music. I like that. This time they played Christmas music. I want to go back to the dentist every Christmas now. It's part of my new Christmas tradition. Let's make this as pleasant as possible! Of course I know why he is happy. He drives an exotic sports car. A different one every day of the week. And I figured I've paid for at least one of them. Now Wendi goes to work. She starts to scrape my teeth with this motorized thing. I first I thought it was one of those dremel grinders, but it's actually water, propelled at 9000 gallons per second. It's the same one they used to cut open safes when the timer is set for 24 hours and there's someone inside with only 12 minutes of air. If you miss the edge of the tooth, it feels like they cut a gash in your mouth. Of course, I can only guess, since I have the gel/cream and the Novocain. Wendi and I sort of have a relationship by now. We understand each other. I understand that she will do whatever it takes to decrud my mouth and she understands it's my own stupid fault for letting it get this way. I am not waiting for New Years Day. I never make resolutions, because I stink at keeping them! But this year, I am making a Christmas resolution! I am going to the dentist every six months. They reccomend every 5 weeks for me, but I think they exaggerate. The first time I ever flew in an airplane, or should I simply say, the first time I ever flew, I was forty something. It scares me some. But I had heard the stories about pretty stewardesses, so I was anxious to see what kind of beauty quuen would be fluffing my pillow and offering coffee, tea or milk? I am not kidding about this. My stewardess looked like Ma Kettle, without make up. I figured she had been hand picked by Wilbur and Orville. My wife and friends were with me, so I wasn't expecting anything more than just to see what all of the hullabaloo was about. Mystery over! Wendi is not like that. She is a cute young lady. We had a little communication system going. Without explanation, she would tap 3 times on my chin and I would instinctively know that she wanted me to close my lips around Mr Sippie so all of the saliva and stuff would be sucked out. No more of those little mini toilet bowls that we used to lean over and spit into.Yes, I like to think that I'm one of her special patients and that she will remember me. I'm very sure that she will. Because I gagged and coughed and generally was a pain. Now if I see her in Wal Mart, I will not remember her. For one thing I didn't have my glasses on. I imagine at the dental office Christmas Party, they will pass around stories about the time they had to clean my teeth. There was one that sandblasted me and another who had to make two molds of my teeth because I gagged in the middle of the first one. I'm sure they draw cotton swabs to see who gets me! I'm a dental hygienist nightmare! I was so bad, that she finally suggested laughing gas. I told her I didn't think it was working because I usually feel very silly and did not yet. I think she cranked it up all the way now. At this point, I handed to her the keys to my mouth. I quit worrying about it and relinquished control. Normally I like to control what goes in my mouth and how long it stays there. But, at this point, I really didn't care too much. I thought of all manner of silly things. Some could be printed, some could not. The Christmas music was playing and I entered a world of my own choosing. Only now and then, Wendi would tap on my chin, to remind me to suck on the tube.

I suppose next week they will again supply me with my daily post.
Poor Dr D. If I go to the dentist every six months, he will soon be driving a Yugo on Thursdays. Sweet dreams, Wendi