Seeing as medical checkups are my hobby and all, this is really a stellar month.
Yesterday, I went to my new dentist. In half an hour, I go to my eye doctor, a fact that will not at all make Faithful Reader Paula nervous. She doesn’t like it when I’m writing and have to go somewhere or am in any way rushed.
Dear Faithful Reader Paula: I write these before work. I am pretty much always rushed.
In a few weeks, I get my mammogram, which in truth I’ve put off. That thing terrifies me.
Anyway, yesterday I saw my new dentist because the old one, whom I started going to as soon as we moved into this city–Marvin found him–was just fine, but the hygienist gave me angina.
I’ve told you about her before. She not only hurt me, she also seriously–SERIOUSLY–had some sort of disorder where she could not stop talking.
Dear Women of America: It’s okay to have silences. It’s also okay to not tell every detail.
I have Sirius radio, says June, telling every detail, and at lunchtime there’s really not much good on there, talk-radio-wise. I was listening to some stupid call-in show recently, and a person called in under the topic of How Did You Meet Your Significant Other.
“Hi, Jenny, thanks for taking my call. I just love you. I listen to you when I…”
See. Already she was bugging me. THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ARE LISTENING. YOU’RE NOT JUST TALKING TO JENNY. YOU’RE THE ENTERTAINMENT.
“I met my husband when he was a junior and I was a freshman.”
See. “I met my husband in high school.” That was all we needed.
“He went away to the state school, and he played soccer and had friends and all that good stuff.”
Oh! All that good stuff! Well, that’s descriptive. Also, is this remotely germane to the story?
By the time I’d heard her whole tale, I retold it in my head using three sentences. I can’t help it. I edit for a living.
This pales in comparison to that hygienist at the old place. She was so bad that she’d already read a complaint someone had made about her on Facebook, about her…talking problem, and you know what she did?
She talked to me about it.
So, after, you know, SEVEN YEARS of this hygienist, I got up all my courage, and I mean I really had to get some courage re this. I had to talk myself into it. But not in a chatty way.
“Dude, you’re the patient,” I told myself. “You have a right to request the other hygienist. It will be okay. The first hygienist probably won’t even know.” So, heart pounding, two years ago I called my dentist’s office, where they already don’t like me.
(I just tried to link to that blog post about when the funeral happened at my dentist’s office, and the woman who answers the phone was the one throwing said funeral for one of her family members, and I called and referred to “some funeral” screwing up my appointment, does anyone remember that? And then I realized my error and called back to say, “Donna, I’m so sorry. I just realized I flippantly referred to a funeral you all are going to, and that that funeral was for your brother-in-law, and it was insensitive of me and I really apologize.” and she said, “My name is Dana.” Does anyone recall that horrificness?)
Anyway, June says, doing the woman-talking-thing, I got up the nerve to call there and say, “May I please have Esmerelda as my hygienist instead of Simone?” And I was shaky and scared, but they said yes, and I saw blissfully quiet Esmerelda once. ONCE. And then that funeral story above happened, and the only person IN THE WHOLE OFFICE not at the funeral was Simone the Chatty Hygienist, and then I was back in the loop of seeing her again.
So six months ago I called again. I did my famous “starting with Yes” that I do when I call these places.
“Yes, I requested Esmerelda to be my hygienist? And I got back in the schedule with Simone? Can we go back to Esmerelda?” I mean, I had douche chills asking.
“She’s all booked up, but we’ll call you when there’s a cancellation.”
So they called me, and booked me recently, and it wasn’t till the day before that I thought to check everything out to be sure.
“Yes. Hi, DANA. I have a cleaning tomorrow, but may I just check who my hygienist will be?”
It was with Lady Chatterly. It was with Miss Wordsworth. It was with Story Spelling. They’d put me back on her loop GODDAMMIT. It was like trying to get a taffy wrapper off your hands.
So that is how I got a new dentist.
I like it there. The office is really close to me; right behind where NedKitty goes to the vet. I say that like you’re all, Ohhhhh. Therrrrrre. Yeah.
It’s fancy, and there are People Magazines in the lobby, and they took individual photos of every single tooth. “Did I look fat in those pictures?” I asked, and because I’m new to them, they weren’t sick of me yet, and they laughed. I saw EVERY ONE of my teeth on a big screen and man, have I had a lot of crowns and fillings and “onlays,” whatever those were.
They also did that gum reading where they say, “2, 2, 1. 1, 2, 3.” I used to like it, back in LA, when they’d say my area code, which was 323.
Anyway, it all looks good, and then the hygienist came in to clean me, and you know what?
She was quiet.
Tune in tomorrow for June Reports on her Eye Doctor Appointment, which is now in 18 minutes.
God, we can’t wait, June.