You can give me shots and take my blood. Heck, you can even do open heart surgery on me if you want. But don't take me to the dentist.
|Don't be fooled by the cute, little office. This is a bad place, people.|
I can't stand the dentist.
Okay, that's not fair. I actually have an awesome dentist. It's his nurses that I can't take. "Why, Kelly," you ask? Well, honey, I'll tell you. These women come clean my teeth before the dentist comes and does the final look over, right? WRONG.
What they do is not "clean my teeth." No. They tear up my gums. They rearrange my teeth right there. They blow my mouth up to smithereens. That's what they do.
After every trip to the dentist, my mouth is so sore and cut up that I can barely chew for the rest of the day. I have to knock back pills to ease the pain.
Well I had my annual teeth cleaning on Tuesday and my experience was a little different. The younger doctor there was actually the one who cleaned my teeth this time. It was the best dentist trip ever. He was gentle, thorough, and quick. He made no small talk like the nurses do because of the tools and fingers that were poking all around my gums and teeth. I'll never understand why the nurses do that. CLEARLY, I cannot answer you.
Anyway, you get the gist. I will ask for him every time I go to the dentist from now on.
My life has been forever altered. I'll be able to sleep again.