My dentist, and good friend, left. She retired. Went off to have fun.
With not a thought of what will happen to me.
Same as the woman who cut my hair.
(Although, to be fair, the hair cutting woman had to run away to another state for scary reasons so I have almost forgiven her.)
I am left feeling abandoned. Alone to face my fears.
Will my hair cut be o.k.? Will the new man who has to look into my mouth hurt me?
I can barely stand it.
I don’t like the new dentist. I might only have seen him once, and he might not have actually done anything in my mouth yet, but I know a scary dentist man when I see him.
My first dentist was a Mr. Houlihan. A very tall imposing man who tried to tell me that dreaming of fairies when I had to be put to sleep with the gas mask thingy was definitely the way to go for a great being put to sleep with the gas mask thingy while someone fiddles in your mouth experience.
Little did he know of my excessively bizarre imagination.
I dreamt of Death Fairies. Yes, you know the ones. The dark, twisted, evil, fairies that wait until you are feeling safe and then jump out at you and scare the s*^# out of you so that you can never walk with confidence into a room again without first giving it the once over.
And even then it’s touch and go.
I called him Mr Hooligan.
I might have been only six, but I know a scary dentist man when I see one.
And now I have to go see another one.
Just for a cleaning they say, but we all know what that means.
Sharp pointy things that gouge away at your gums. Water spurted nonchalantly down your throat to choke you just when you think you’ve gotten through the worse part, and the sucky vacuum thing that comes too late to stop the choking and just makes you look like an idiot when you close your mouth around it and it makes your eyes pop out with surprise when your lips shut tight around the tube. (Do they even clean that thing?)
All the while the hygienist is chatting away as though all of this is normal.
Then he, the scary dentist man, has to come in to frown at you in disapproval because you don’t floss and tell you that you need a filling.
Why did I have to have teeth in the first place.
And nobody can help you. Nobody can say, hey, I’ll go have your teeth cleaned for you.
You’re on your own.
So think of me at 11 o’clock (set your watches, that’s Houston central time), as I sit in the chair of doom for another fun hour of torture.
Don’t look, I’m going to cry now.
A new one beginning.
And, and old one coming along.
Still unhappy about the dentist.