Unless I have been the victim of government-sponsored manipulation of my memories, I am pretty sure that when I was a little kid, going to the dentist was fun.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
Yes! Fun! The dentist was a kindly old man who smelled of horehound candy. The dental assistants were friendly and gentle. After my teeth were cleaned, I was allowed to select an item from a wall of cheap toys, which always presented excruciating decisions, such as whether to get the fake money and pretend to be Scrooge McDuck, or the pirate kit which came with a plastic sword that I would use to torment my brother until he developed significant psychological problems.
But we're not just talking toys. Also among the loot collected at the dentist's office were a new toothbrush, tiny tubes of toothpaste, and those red chewable tablets that revealed unsightly plaque deposits.
Then, although we wore stickers that reminded us not to eat for at least half an hour after the fluoride treatment, my mom would always stop and buy us doughnuts. This is how I developed the reckless disregard for authority that I am known for to this day. You try to stay on the straight and narrow while tempted by chocolate and coconut. It is impossible. Ah, those heady days of lawlessness.
This is why it pains me to admit that dentistry is no longer fun.
There are no toys. There are no red chewable tablets. There is only pain, and large insurance deductibles.
Currently, I find myself with my face swollen to twice its normal size, an ache in my jaw no amount of Tylenol can temper, and a checking account missing the $250 I was planning to use to buy a Nintendo Wii.
How did this happen? It was all very sudden and confusing.
I moved to a new town last year, and decided to find a local dentist.
"Hmm," said my new dentist, who is kindly, but does not smell of horehound candy. "You don't have any new cavities, but some of these fillings must be 20 years old. They're falling apart."
"OK," I said. "Have at them. By the way, where are the toys?"
He just looked me, suddenly less kindly. I felt a tingle in my spine. I knew then that something was very wrong.
Back at home, bloody and disoriented, I knew the only thing that could bring me comfort were doughnuts. But my mouth hurt too much to chew. So I gummed some leftover spaghetti and stared into space, wishing that I had a plastic pirate sword.
Jessica encourages you to visit the dentist every time Halley's comet is visible. E-mail her at jburgess@quickdfw.com.
