You Know The Drill

One good turn of creative bankruptcy deserves another I never say. So, following the lead of one Coaster Punchman, allow me to lead you into that darkest corner of fear, a visit to the dentist! Cue the music.

When I moved to my current suburban installation a few years back, I began a rigorous search for a new dentist. My main criteria was that the candidate for my affections be located close by. I'm lazy, no question. As I gathered stores of energy to prepare, I happened to look out the window and spied an office quite nearby that was home to a drill of dentists. Such luck!

Before I get to the inquisitive new dentist, I'd like to take a swing or two at a few of the old guys. In reverse order.

My most recent dentist was an Asian man who stood at about 6.5 feet tall. (A 6.5 foot tall Asian guy in a mask walks into a bar...) He was nice but continually gloated about all the fantastic vacations he was taking with my insurance company's money. He did make me laugh though and when they were talking about picking a new pope, he showed his progressive sense of humour by saying he wanted to promote more equality in the papacy by printing on t-shirts the slogan Black Smoke For A Black Pope.

Prior to this and after having just moved again, I chose a dentist a few doors away (criteria met) to work on the lone wisdom tooth that showed up to my party. He had a bit of the look of mad scientist about him but seemed amiable enough, at least until he set to work tearing away part of my soul through my gums.

He stitched me up, gave me medication and sent me on my way. The pain and bleeding continued beyond reason and I made a return visit. He'd left a piece of the tooth in and had to go back after it. Following more pain, bleeding and medication, I found myself in front of a pharmacist asking me why a dentist would give me something with aspirin in it, a well known anti-coagulant? If only I'd had two wisdom teeth to guide me initially, this bit of quackery might never have occurred.

Growing up, there was kindly Dr. Gillis. He was what you might call in polite circles a sadistic fucking asshole. He never used enough freezing and I think, enjoyed that. I went to school with a couple of his children and there was no doubt their teeth were perfect but I'm sure it was out of fear and not his dental tutelage.

Flash forward again. Everything here in Candyland is sunshiney and beautiful and the trees are filled with gumdrops the happy songs of Egyptian plovers.

My new dentist is about about 7 years old, seems to know how to use all his Little Tikes dental gear and he pretends to like me which I enjoy.

When I first applied to be his patient, there was a questionnaire to complete with the last question being 'Have you ever had a bad experience with a dentist?'. Like all the best questions, there was barely space to answer and so I checked yes and noted that my former dentists were sadists. He's never asked about my response but that may be because he's too young to understand such a big word, but I smile big every time I see it on the green page that flutters as he opens my file.