I love going to the dentist: eavesdropping on the front desk ladies, flipping through as many magazines as possible, lying back in the cushiony chair, meditating on the calming posters taped to the ceiling, inspecting the colorful smattering of teeth gook on the sky blue bib. Mint Fluoride? Cherry? Well, Pam, I think it’s a Cookies and Cream kind of day. You’re an expert flosser. Why thank you. See you in six months!
But, today, I was in the chair, bib over shirt, (bring on Mr. Thirsty straw), when…I got sent away. Banish'ed.
“Has anything changed since we last saw you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I had this tumor…dainty scar, right?...”
"Oh no. Then we can't see you. We'll have to reschedule..."
Apparently, it’s common knowledge that if you have a major surgery where they put “foreign objects” in your “body”, you can’t just show up to a teeth cleaning like a normal human being. If I had heard this before, I probably squirreled it away to be recalled in forty years after a hip replacement.
So, now, I need my surgeon to fax a note stating whether it’s okay to clean my teeth, or if I need to be put on antibiotics first.
If you tell a GUY that he’s got to take antibiotics, he’s annoyed because pharmacies are a pain in the ass. You tell a GIRL she's gotta pop antibiotics, here’s how she might spiral:
-Yay! It'll clear up my face.
-I’ll have a really flat stomach for a couple weeks, since it kills all the bacteria in the intestines.
-But then, I’ll get gassy cause it kills all the good bacteria too.
- Yeast infections suck.
-Antibiotics are birth control saboteurs. I could get pregnant. I don't want an antibiotics baby.
It's so not worth being a bloaty, itchy pregnant lady just to get a teeth cleaning.