Dentist Day

Today is Paige's birthday, and in honor of that momentous event, I went to the dentist yesterday for the first time in nine-hundred-forty-five days , which is longer than the shelf life of pasta (which starts to hatch mealworms around the two year mark, according to the bulk macaroni we kept in our house after I went to college). The duration even outlasted our previous health insurance provider at work, which meant I needed to find a new dentist in the network (this could also be the synopsis of a new Sandra Bullock movie: The Net 2).

I located a dentist's office on Route 7, north of Route 28, and established their credentials by noting that the main dentist's last name had five syllables would not have been an acceptable Scrabble word. I tried to make an appointment for a cleaning, but was informed that the first visit never involved a cleaning, because they needed to accurately assess my teeth to determine how much time the hygenist would need to devote to the cleaning (translation: we're going to make the HMO pay for an extra visit for giggles).

I arrived at their typical office a half hour ahead of schedule. It was a typical affair hidden away in a bland office building with issues of National Geographic, Time, and Highlights for Kids from four weeks ago, and the sounds of power tools ringing in the background. After filling out the First Time Survey (yes, I am happy with my smile, and no, I do not have venereal disease) I was escorted to a dentist chair for X-rays.

This office still employed the classic "bite down on this film eight different times and we'll take eight X-rays which can then be stitched together with the Landscape Stitch feature on our camera" approach instead of the high-tech X-ray machine that revolves around your head in two minutes while exposing you to high amounts of radiation. Fifteen minutes later, my mouth was all cut up from the sharp edges on the films, and the assistant to the assistant to the hygenist scampered off to the One Hour Photo to get them developed.

After reading about Hillary Clinton's out of control momentum in the Presidential primaries (TIME, January 2008), the X-rays came back. Because my previous dentist had flipped the films and then informed me that I should get teeth extracted from the wrong portion of my mouth, I made sure that these were accurately arranged to reflect the true position of my teeth. According to the X-rays, there are no cavities and my home-prevention routine is stellar. However, I should get my wisdom teeth extracted before they cause problems, and I should come to the dentist more often.

So essentially, absolutely nothing has changed in the past three years, which gives me no compelling reason to visit the dentist again anytime soon, and my HMO just paid for a bunch of useless X-rays. Chalk one up for health care.

Happy Birthday Paige!