In The Clutches Of The Tooth Nazis

Went to the dentist this morning.

The good news is that the Streak continues: rolling into the 4th quarter of my forty-first year, I still have zero cavities. Zip. Nada. Nil. This may be due to a Khan-like genetic superiority. Then again, I may have the Communists and their destabilize-the-West-through-water-flouridation plan to thank. Or, it might be that I haven't really touched sugar since I was about seven. Perhaps it's some combination thereof, but the record still stands, baybee!

The bad news is that they're out to get me. My last visit was about six months ago. Prior to that, I hadn't been in since Christmas of 1989. And somehow or other, I've got along fine all this time. Now, though, they're saying I need to come in every three months. The Uber-hygenist was an outright font of Doom and Gloom. After railing against the toothpaste manufacturers for putting out all sorts of tartar-control, anti-gingivitis, whitening products that actually do harm to teeth, she rounded on me.

"You drink coffee, don't you."
"Well, yes."
"A lot?"
"Yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Well. I can't possibly keep up with the staining on your teeth if you don't come in every three months. And if the staining gets out of control, it leads to plaque build up. And with plaque build up comes tartar build up. And with tartar buildup comes gum disease. And then you're in trouble."

I got the distinct impression that, if left to carry on in this vein, she eventually would have worked her way up to botulism and hydrophobia. To preserve a little peace, though, I promised I would start coming in more often. (I left off pointing out that my insurance doesn't cover her little cleaning sessions, so this is gonna cost me.)

But much worse, she started in about my wisdom teeth, of which I have two left. "Oooh, they're really hard for me to clean. And if they're hard for me, they're impossible for you." I gave a noncommittal shrug and thought I had headed her off, but I was wrong: she said the same damned thing to the dentist, so when she came in to see me, she started in immediately about an excellent oral surgeon she would recommend.

As Jerry Seinfeld might say, "I don't wanna have my wisdom teeth yanked."

Anyhoo, I told the dentist I'd think about it. I reckon this will push it off at least until my next visit. Whether I'll be able to get another extension after that, I really don't know. Perhaps it would be easier just to stop going altogether again.