It was dentist day yesterday! Well, dentist morning. And that scaling machine, I’ll never get used to it. I say this every 6 months: I prefer an extraction. At least my face is numb.
I’ve got this sensitive tooth, you see. This one little sentient that likes to share the feels. And it hates everything the dentist is doing. And that sound! It’s like that feeling when I pick up a sponge. And before all that, of course, I can’t stand the proddy thing! Prod-prod with a needle, WHY! But I don’t mind the mirror, though.
My dentist is nice. She pulled out my exploded wisdom tooth and made a friend for life. And since then, I’ve always left hearing that everything is okay. So I endure these 30 minutes willingly.
I arrive, wait 10 minutes, get called — she prods, she cleans, I’m out.
Sadly, yesterday was the last time. She’s retiring. Off to New Zealand, which sounds nice.
Unfortunately, the dentist taking over won’t also be the hygienist.
In future, instead of getting it all over and polished, it’ll be two sittings with two different people doing things I don’t like.
That’s double the torture.
These people better be nice.