I’m a biter. Some people just are. I love to sink my teeth into a pleasurably resistant food, used to be a habitual gum-chewer (I would get headaches because I chewed so hard), and have been known to test my marital boundaries by (gently, affectionately–like a Golden Retriever) chomping onto the tempting flesh of Joe’s bicep now and then. I have to wear a night guard when I sleep so I don’t grind my teeth to nubs, and most recently cracked a molar because of overzealous clenching. So, I had to go to the dentist. Crown me! But where?
I had gone for several years to a place conveniently located close to work and home, run by a dentist couple my own age I was quite comfortable with, who felt like friends, so much so that when I got the letter from their office saying they felt they weren’t spending enough time with their family and were selling their practice and moving off to the Marshall Islands, I felt almost betrayed. If only Micronesia was a little closer! Forget about scheduling appointments for the early morning or late afternoon because of work, I need a week off for my dental appointment, and don’t forget the scuba gear, babe! Instead I simply went to the guy who bought the practice. Sigh.
The new dentist was a little younger than I am, with a bit of a surfer-thing going (spiky-gelled blond hair and said “no doubt”). Hmmmm. But in his favor he seemed friendly, enthusiastic and mostly efficient. But then a few months back I went in for a check-up and some other dentist was there. I figured she was a substitute or something (no Dear Lori letter like my Marshall Island dentists) but then I heard from someone at work that they’d seen something on the news about a naughty North City dentist, and wasn’t that where I go? Turns out he’s a bit of a CREEPY GUY!!!! Which caused all sorts of horrified “what if?!?” scenarios in my head and some understandably major shudders for a long time, but I needed to get that cracked tooth fixed, so I could eat on my left side again, and also, maybe more so, to get (sweet, well-intending) Joe off my back.
So, I decided to travel a bit farther (alas, not Marshall Islands far) and start seeing Joe’s dentist. I now have a temporary crown, my first ever, and so far so good. My new dentist is from Colombia, (his name translates into ‘cowboy,’ which I rather like for a dentist, although I don’t know why), the staff was friendly, informative, and helpful, plus we all joked around about Joe, which is always a good time. The dentist even brought up a horror movie called The Dentist, when we talked about Creepy Guy dentist, but I told him he might not want to mention the words ‘horror’ and ‘dentist’ in the same sentence to his other patients. All in all, I’m happy with my new dental crew, and best of all, I made it out with my pants on.