I was going to fly back to Pennsylvania this past weekend…actually Baltimore since it’s a direct flight and it gives me a chance to see the 2nd to last home game of 2016 for the Baltimore Blast (playing the Central Florida Tropics, no less).
Unfortunately, just as I was about to make said plans, I found I had a dentist’s appointment today so that threw everything off. 😦
My day was perfect – except the appointment itself as they had new hygenist on staff who dismissed my objection to the Ultrasonic cleaning (it HURTS my ears).
“You’re here for a cleaning and that’s what this does – it cleans your teeth – using sound waves. That’s the best way to clean molars and your molars need it. Besides, YOU’RE the one who said he wanted outta here ‘as quickly as possible’ and sound waves are extremely efficient as they travel through your teeth.”
But the worst part (my perspective anyway) was when she mocked me for asking her to not pat my shoulder “sympathetically” when asking questions, she knew it impossible for me to answer.
“What am I supposed to do,” rolling her chair into the counter while shaking her hands in the air melodramatically. “Treat you from 50 feet away? I’m a friendly person – and I have to clean your teeth and there is no way to do that without touching you in any way.”
Then she begins my least favorite part of these visits: the scaling and “depth of tissue” measurements (jabbing my gums with the scalpel in several locations until we get blood and then schedule me for another quarterly cleaning because we got blood during the cleaning). The plus side is she offered me a “numbing gel” so I “wouldn’t feel anything” for the duration of the visit.
I wasn’t sure what to say since this was the first time they offered this to me for a hygienist visit – even during the Prophylactic Scaling. However, when I stopped her during the jabby portion and asked why I was feeling that when she assured me I “wouldn’t feel anything,” she pulls her mask down and replies:
“Because you hemmed and hawed ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know’ (I said no such thing) so I gave you only a little bit and it did take the sting out of the procedure” (actually, it just felt like I had Chap Stick on my gums).
Finally, she takes the bib off, lifts the chair and hands me a poorly photocopies “Medical History” form. She shrugs, gives me a vague “we need a new copy for our records” and sends me out to reception again.
The bill seemed higher than I previously remembered, and while I wasn’t impressed with my visit – any appointment that I’m not physically assaulted is technically a good one.