Dental Degradation on Dante, Degreed

Need a humility check? A trip to the dentist ought to do the trick.

This week at the dentist's office, I had one cavity filled. I also had my self-confidence gutted. And my insurance paid for both!

As if it isn't embarrassing enough just sitting in a chair with your mouth pried open, staring up at painfully bright fluorescent lighting with a bib over your chest, they actually try to talk to you, as if they care about your emotional comfort level in addition to your tooth decay. Naturally, when the friendly dental hygienist attempts to make small talk, you're left with very limited response options. As a result, the conversation goes something like this:

"Kind of warm out today, huh?"

"AAAAAAAH."

"With the sun coming in through those windows, it's actually hot in here!"

"AAAA-AAHHHH."

"Can't believe I'm wearing a sweater."

"AAAAA AAAAA-AAHHHH."

"What do you think of the war?"

"AAAAAAAAH-AAAAAAAAH AAAAAH AH AH AAAAAH!"

"I'm gay."

"AAAAAHHH?"

"Mind if I fondle your canines?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH."

It doesn't really matter what she says -- you'd still be left with one vowel sound to cover a necessarily wide range of emotion.

There's also a coded system of language, created by dentists and dental hygienists as a way of communicating with one another while their patients remain prostrate and mystified. This time, I listened extra carefully, trying to decode it. At a few points, I succeeded, and I can now offer these insights into the highly technical language of the elite dentistati clan.

When the dentist says, "I don't want to argue with you, but we normally do amalgam metal and typically advise against resin fillings," what he is trying to say is, "You shallow, frivolous idiot. Buck up, and get some friggin' silver in your mouth."

When the dentist says "Need a little more retraction" to the hygienist, what he is really saying is, "The patient is tonguing my hand again. It's disgusting. Please intervene."

When the dentist says, "Your cheek and tongue should feel very numb. Do you feel like you have a fat lip?" your answer should be, "Yeth." If you answer with a prim and proper "Yes, sir," congratulations: you can still pronounce your S's! This is going to hurt like hell.

And when the dentist begins to drill into your tooth but stops when you arch your back and dig your nails into the plastic seat covering, at which point he says, "Let's numb you up a little more," what he means is, "I understand you just experienced a sensation something like hot lava beset with prickly pears being poured into your gums. Please don't sue me. Why don't we pump some more Novocain into your face?"

Eventually they'd injected so much Novocain into my general facial region that my right eye was drooping. I came into that office a proud, sentient member of society. I left a semi-Quasimodo with one lazy eye, trying not to drool on myself as I sputtered out travesties of language like "Thankth tho muth. I really apprethiate it. Thee you thith Thurthday?"

On the way out, I noticed a fairly good-looking boy (in my general age range! in Wellfleet! in WINTER!) in the waiting room. Hoping that some semblance of inner beauty would shine through the completely numb right half of my face, I attempted a flirtatious (albeit cockeyed) grin. Then, as I left, I proceeded to close the office door with my bootlace still inside it, pulling me back with a jolt before catapulting my body off the front steps.

And... there went the remaining sliver of my pride.

Never mind that I have eight more cavities in my mouth. I don't think I can suffer another dentist appointment -- mind, body, or soul -- for a long time.