July 12th, 2002


I know you missed the dental stories

Well, I haven’t felt busier in quite some time. Every moment seems accounted for these days. I feel I’m letting down my LJ friends

So here’s a quick dentist story. I know you love those.

I went in tonight to get a crown adjusted. My bite was slightly off and if you’ve ever had that happen I’m sure you’d remember how annoying it is. Every bite is fraught with potential new pains. Just when it feels safe to really bite down, your teeth grind in an unexpected way and you STOP chewing right away, trying to figure out a safe non-embarrassing way to get the food down your throat or out of your mouth. Anyways, the dentist who does my cleanings was the only one working so I saw him. He’s a fresh-out-of-dental-school dentist, and they don’t usually trust him with the drill.

But he’s a really sweet, slightly dorky, guy. He, like many of you I’m sure, is utterly fascinated by my cheese monger job and is always asking questions like, "So do you just eat cheese all day?" and "Doesn’t the smell get to you?" while telling me how good cheese is for your teeth.

I’m not exactly the poster boy for that concept.

Things started off amusingly when he started adjusting my crown. To do that, they put a little piece of what seems like carbon paper between your teeth and have you bite and grind. The paper leaves marks and they can see where your bite is binding or too hard and drill it down. There’s something sweetly retro about it; I guess it’s the carbon paper-like stuff, but it makes me fill like I’ve gone back in time and the office will be full of typewriters with correction cartridges and those old, manual credit card rollers.

My way of dealing with dental work is to let my mind go on tangents. Did I mention that?

But after "Dr. Bob" adjusted my bite and wanted to check it again with the carbon paper he put it on my teeth and said, "Ok, go to that special place."

I started laughing, he got embarrassed and made some it’s-Friday-night-and-I’m-kind-of-tired excuse. My friends disagreed on the nature of the reference. One said "Mr. Rogers, my housemates said, "creepy new age meditation" and I immediately thought McMartin Preschool case.

We then talked about my vacation (starting NOW!), my upcoming conference and the wedding I’ll be attending tomorrow. It wasn’t much of a conversation of course, since my mouth was filled with dental tools, but he talked while I tried to think of other things besides my troubled teeth.

But then, in the first bit of good dental luck I’ve had in years, he started cleaning my teeth. By way of explanation he said only, "Well, we’ve got to pretty you up for the wedding tomorrow." He didn’t mention it to the receptionist when we were done and I walked out paying for nothing.

Another dental crush? <http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=gordonzola&itemid=14063> I'm not sure. But, just to be safe, I'll protect this one better.