Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Gouts of blood
Not only was this morning my mother's birthday, but it was also the TigerHawk semi-annual cleaning of the teeth. I dread the regular visit to the dentist, but not for the discomfort. I just don't like the nagging. You know. To floss.
The hygienist who has scraped away at my teeth heretofore is a very nice mother who talks about her children and leaves me with that clean, "separated teeth" feeling without pain or more than a hint of blood in any given rinse. Her only shortcoming is that she voices a lot of opinions about the frequency with which I should floss notwithstanding the general good health of my gums and my complete unwillingness to change. Unfortunately, she is so nice that I don't really feel that I can tell her "Shut the f*ck upZipper your face fly and clean! -- I've got places to be!" So I try to deflect her sad looks of concern with a pie crust promise to "floss fortnightly" or "on major holidays."
More unfortunately, she has moved away.
I got off to a great start with my new hygienist, who asked me if I flossed and didn't seem the least bit out of sorts when I answered, in a fit of candor, "about once a month." No tut-tutting, friendly lectures about bone loss and receding gums. Nothing like that.
Then the tools came out and she dug her way through my mouth determined to scrape away any trace of plaque without regard for how deeply it might be buried under my soft tissue. It hurt like hell, and when I had my first shot at a rinse the little sink turned red from the blood. Not a slight pink like I was used to seeing, but slightly diluted blood with little clotted wads spiraling down the drain. I barely survived, my gums hurt all day, and fourteen hours later I can still feel parts of my mouth that haven't been probed in years.
Anyway, I reported all of this to the 'Villain, who wondered whether I had drawn the same hygienist who had cleaned our father's teeth over the years. Apparently he had a downright brutal hygienist here in Princeton who asked him every six months whether he flossed, to whom he famously replied:
The hygienist who has scraped away at my teeth heretofore is a very nice mother who talks about her children and leaves me with that clean, "separated teeth" feeling without pain or more than a hint of blood in any given rinse. Her only shortcoming is that she voices a lot of opinions about the frequency with which I should floss notwithstanding the general good health of my gums and my complete unwillingness to change. Unfortunately, she is so nice that I don't really feel that I can tell her "
More unfortunately, she has moved away.
I got off to a great start with my new hygienist, who asked me if I flossed and didn't seem the least bit out of sorts when I answered, in a fit of candor, "about once a month." No tut-tutting, friendly lectures about bone loss and receding gums. Nothing like that.
Then the tools came out and she dug her way through my mouth determined to scrape away any trace of plaque without regard for how deeply it might be buried under my soft tissue. It hurt like hell, and when I had my first shot at a rinse the little sink turned red from the blood. Not a slight pink like I was used to seeing, but slightly diluted blood with little clotted wads spiraling down the drain. I barely survived, my gums hurt all day, and fourteen hours later I can still feel parts of my mouth that haven't been probed in years.
Anyway, I reported all of this to the 'Villain, who wondered whether I had drawn the same hygienist who had cleaned our father's teeth over the years. Apparently he had a downright brutal hygienist here in Princeton who asked him every six months whether he flossed, to whom he famously replied:
"Yes, except during the ten days after you have cleaned my teeth, during which my gums hurt too much to floss."
0 Comments:
