Molar Imperatives

I have a dentist appointment in about an hour, and it's not my favorite thing in the world. It's always better than I remember though. I was reminded of this fact by myself a few years ago. Allow me to explain: I got a postcard in the mail from my dentist telling me that it had been six months and I needed to call to schedule another cleaning. On the postcard, in my handwriting, it read, "It's actually not that bad! Love, You." I was confused at first, but then remembered the dentist asking me to write my address on that postcard before I left the previous appointment. I guess I took that opportunity to tell Future Peter that he should just suck it up and go. And you know what? It worked; I set up another cleaning.

This time is different though. This time it's a new dentist, and it's been a lot longer between cleanings than it should. Like four times as long. Sorry Mom. But I'm a big boy, so I'm gonna go in there, act like a man, and take whatever the doc's got for me. My wife tells me that today will probably just be x-rays and a "consultation" and that I'll be scheduling a cleaning for later. That's good and bad news. On one hand, I won't be upset to get in and out with as little scraping and spitting as possible. On the other, that means I'll need to psych myself up for another one of these visits very soon.

As I'm sure is the case with almost everyone, going to the dentist reminds me Advance Placement U.S. Government in high school. What? I'm alone in this? Weird. Here's a long and unimportant story as to why:

I enjoyed certain aspects of high school. I was never one of those kids who celebrated like he won the World Series when the final bell rang on the last day of the year. I liked seeing my friends every day, and nerdy as it sounds, I enjoyed the learning process that took place in some of my classes. My classes though, even the ones I liked most, were often a little less stimulating than I needed. So my friend Dusty and I would often come up with ways to make things a little more interesting to us, and I know how lame this is going to sound even before I type it. We'd make little games up to occupy our minds.

One such game involved little gestures for everytime certain students' names were said aloud. (Sidenote: There's a wonderful, all-time great story about this in a Spanish class that I'll hopefully get to address at a later date. It deserves its own post because it's stuck with all of us to this day.) These actions weren't meant to be distractions or for anyone else to notice, but rather a way for Dusty and me to add a more interactive element to the class. For example, there was one student who would very haughtily take off his glasses with one hand before making a point, as if to emphasize how very intellingent he was. So everytime anyone said his name aloud in the class, Dusty and I would casually scratch one temple or loosely mimic his defining action. Our friend Scott was on the varsity basketball team, so his name made us lightly tap the desk in reference to dribbling a ball. Yes, I know, we were such bad asses. The most convoluted of these actions (and we probably got to about 20 of them in the class of 30ish) was for a quieter guy named Dennis. Dusty asked me what we should do for his name, and I glanced at my watch. Why? Because Dennis sounds a little like "dentist", and according to the old and stupid joke, one goes to the dentist at 2:30 since it sounds like "tooth-hurty." He agreed, and from that day on until the end of our illustrious high school careers, I checked the time every time Dennis' name was uttered.

I t0ld you it was a lame story. Regardless, I think of that whenever I'm going to the dentist. Maybe you will too now, memory stealer.

UPDATE: Some good news, some not-as-good. The dentist was very nice, and he not only complimented my oral hygeine and understanding of what one must do to have a healthy mouth, but he was very taken by my philosophy on golf ("Yes, it's frustrating, but it's a beautiful place to be frustrated."). The not-as-good news is that I have to go back Monday morning for the cleaning, so I wasn't able to get it all done at once. Also, I have a small cavity that needs a filling (insert sexual joke here). So, even though I have to go in again and will require some unenjoyable drilling, at least the people are nice.

I somehow forgot to mention it earlier, but my mom's been told by her dentist that she has "perfect home dental hygeine." I know this verbatim because she's very proud of that, and rightfully so. But has her dentist ever complimented her on how she perceives the game of golf? We'll call it a draw.