Hot-odontist and the Tooth Bitch (A Fairy Tale)

WARNING: If stories about dental treatments triggers self harm or panic induced coma, you should still read on... this has a happen ending.

I had a dentist appointment this morning. I am not unique. I do not like the dentist. I used to not hate it. I used to look at it like a pap smear... some discomfort, some lecturing, a lot of poking... but a means to an end that includes a clean orifice and another year of birth control.

Until I turned 30 and had a cavity. This was the result of becoming a hippy and ceasing to use flouride-based toothpaste because did you know that flouride is a poison and in high levels is used as a truth serum in war time and also the government puts flouride in the water supply to make us docile? Someone told me something like that so I switched to non-flouride toothpaste and then didn't see a dentist for 2 years.


At that next appointment, the nice young dentist removed each of my teeth, scrubbed them, strung them from a chain on her neck, danced with satan, and then put them back in my skull with a hammer. Seriously. Ok, not seriously.

I guess it was a year later that I was told I had 2 cavities... in two teeth she was just "watching." Bitch! Watch better! I cried leaving that appointment like I had failed at life.  I don't get cavities. That's something other people do. 

I scheduled my filling for Christmas Eve. Why? Because I hate Jesus (I don't hate Jesus. I hate myself.) She warned me that the injection to take the pain away could "pinch" and "possibly burn." Now that I know what it's supposed to feel like due to additional cavities (a true pinch and burn), what she gave me was a ball punch and penis yank. (I jumped, whimpered, and then cried... and I have tattoos... I know how to whine through pain like a champion... Also, I don't have balls or a penis.)

And now we've arrived at today's cleaning appointment. I've been going to Dr C since Tooth Bitch left (Tooth Bitch is the nemesis of the Tooth Fairy; although probably sisters since they do both care about clean teeth I think)... so for a few years. He's a wonderful middle aged black man who blasts reggae through the office and is not at all a rastafarian... but I tell you he's black so you can imagine that he is rastafarian because wouldn't that be fucking cool if he had dreads and was like "Ya ha' no cavaties, mon!"? (I'm sorry if that comes off as racist. I love all people and despise stereotypes...)  

Today's hygenist didn't talk when her hands were in my mouth, which I hate, but was very personable. It was all perfectly normal until I realized that each swipe of my gross plaque scraping was being wiped on my boob. Yes, she had placed the standard-issue bib around my neck so it's not like she was wiping it on my clothes, but it was on the bib on my boob. Each time. Scrape. Boob swipe. Scrape. Boob nudge.

I wondered if maybe the other hygenists had been pervy too and I hadn't noticed or if I was just a little hard up? I didn't flinch or ask her to stop and honestly it was mostly the instruments of potential torture that got the action but still... there was some awkward touching going on.

Two years after my first cavity I had to have a root canal. Remember my overreaction to having a cavity? You would have thought they were telling me I was going to prison for a murder I didn't commit.. I couldn't even ask how much it was going to cost I was so upset. It's not me. It's someone else's rotten tooth. I have good teeth. I pay my bills on time. I come from a good home. I brake for squirrels. And I can do math good too!

My endodontist turned out to be a real treat though. If he would have stopped talking about his girlfriend, or whatever. He was for real hotttt. And it didn't matter that he had both of his hands in my mouth and I was bleeding on him, when he told me I had great teeth I wanted to hump his leg. It was the best 90 minutes of jaw pain and drooling...

After he'd finished up and returned me to my upright position he had something to tell me:

Hot-odnontist: So, I don't have to tell you this because you'd otherwise never know, but I'm an honest guy. A piece of the drill-bit broke off in your tooth and I couldn't get it out so I just left it. 
Me: I'm sorry. What?
HO: There is a tiny piece of drill-bit that broke off in your tooth. But don't worry. It won't cause infection or anything. 
Me: You left something in my skull? 
HO: No. It's in your tooth. It's made of titanium... you know, like a false hip.
Me: You left something? In my skull?
HO: No! It's in your tooth. It won't cause any trouble and you would never know except I'm telling you. 
Me: You left something in my skull. 
HO: STOP SAYING THAT! It's in your tooth. 
Me (calmly): Which is in my skull...

Because of the Tooth Bitch, I now must take valium for dental treatments extending beyond a simple cleaning. So I was quite high. I wasn't mad. That's actually how I flirt. I wanted to hump him. And there was bloody cotton in my mouth.

(Note to dental-fearers... the root canal was waaaay easier than that first filling.... and my subsequent fillings haven't been bad either... that bitch was bad with the needle.)

Obviously, this wasn't a fairy tale, but wouldn't it have been cool if it had been? Like the Hot-odontist testified that my murder of the Tooth Bitch was in self defense because she made people afraid of dentists and I didn't have to go to prison and then he rescued me from a dragon and I hit someone with a sword...

Good times.