Horses with Braces

Tomorrow I go to my new dentist, which reminded me of my first dentist (there were others) in Arlington.

I selected said dentist based on the following:  She and her family were in matching Christmas sweaters on the website.  I felt like this was a telltale sign of "fun" and "good dentist." Apparently Christmas sweaters are not a good litmus test for whether or not a dentist is recommendable.

Disclaimer:  Fantastic dentist and teeth people, congratulations on being wonderful at your work!  This is not dedicated to you.

Let's roll back to 2007, friends.  Following my adventurous day at the dentist I wrote my pals an email version of this:

Today I went to the dentist for two fillings and by fillings I don't mean the silver kind.  Apparently this is not the way Arlington dentists roll.  They roll with white fillings that blend in with your teeth and cost lots of money.  Also why do I have cavities?  So sad.

I try to arrive early to find free parking, but this ends in travesty since all of the twisting and turning leads to motion sickness for Katie.  It's a special kind of amazing to cause your own self to be motion sick. I roll down the window to catch a breath of air, but my tummy continues to rumble.  I park way down the street and fumble around for change, load the meter, and run to my dental appointment.

  

During the filling process I was to raise my hand if I felt any pain.  By the end I had at least six shots of Novocaine in my mouth.  I feel like that's a lot.  At the end of the procedure my mouth was kinda just hanging out/down…lit-rally.  They asked me to sit up in the chair and rest for a minute. 

Enter the man I like to call Dentist Emeritus.  I feel like he was about 80 years old and apparently he made a major discovery in the world of teeth. He kind of sauntered in the room and had that "I'm awesome" air about him.  He clearly had dental wisdom to share.

My dentist asked me to bite down on something.  Dentist Emeritus was across from the room and said something like "I can see it from here." 

And here is where things got weird:  Dentist Emeritus looks at me and asks "Is your face deformed?"

"What?" I mumble in that mouth-full-of-dental-stuff way.  He's not smiling, but surely he's joking…right?  Oh wait:  Maybe he's talking about my Novocaine-d mouth that was hanging out on the floor. 

I smile and point to the lip and he says something like "No, not that.  I'm being serious.  Is your face deformed?"  

(Mouth-full-of dental-stuff silence.  Crickets for days.  More silence.)

Dentist E continues with disdain. "Who did your braces?" I'm serious.

"Well, I'm from Kentucky so you probably wouldn't…"  He cuts me off.

"Say no more" Dentist E replies.  He then explains to the dentists how orthodontists in Kentucky work on horses.

"They put braces on horses in Kentucky" he says to me. Are you kidding?  I. have. never.  I have never met a brace-face horse.  But guess what?  HE WAS NOT KIDDING.  Nope.

Next, the dentists tag team and tell me they can make this clay plate thing for me to sleep in for seven million dollars.  My dentist looks at me and tells me that as I get older things like my mouth will begin to fall apart and "I don't want to see this happen to you."  Thoughtful!

Needless to say, I left sans clay plate.  

I left the dentist for REI to buy some hiking sandals.  I'm walking around the store and apparently the 6-7 shots of Novocaine in my mouth meant hours of drooling.  An REI worker offers me a Kleenex to clean up the drool.  I love it.  They still sold me sandals.

The end.

*Here's hoping tomorrow goes a bit better!