Have you ever heard a buzzing, sawing sound in your head? So deep in your head that you know it sounds different to other people’s ears. Grind, grind, grind, dig, dig, dig, scratch, scratch, scratch, breath in, breath out, open wider, grind, grind, grind, rinse, repeat, rinse. Yes, I just returned from an appointment with my dentist. And all the while thinking about what if they took all the plaque that is probably holding my teeth to my gums. When this was done, I was going to be toothless! It didn’t help that I was doped up.
You see, I have a weird situation with my teeth. I inherited a very nice, strong set of teeth. And strong bones. Strong teeth and bones mean my calcium levels are great. But, with all that calcium, my plaque is like concrete. No amount of flossing, even using a water floss regularly doesn’t help much. My teeth cleaning is not simple, go in, get your teeth cleaned and come out with shiny American teeth. No, missy, no. I have to get my teeth cleaned quarter by quarter. And I am very resistant to anesthetics. I need as much of anesthetics as a horse, for just one quarter of my teeth. I think every cell in my body is a control freak and doesn’t want to let go. It takes all of my years of meditation and breathing practice to not run from that treatment room. But not enough to go back every four months like I should. And I have severe gag reflex. Get your mind out of the gutter right now. Every X-ray needs a touch of salt like I am doing shots of tequila.
I am a strong woman. I went through a night of labor all on my own before calling my birth partner. I wanted to let her get a good night’s sleep before it all escalated and I had to go to the hospital. Like a farmer’s wife, on Day 2 after my child’s birth, I returned home and cooked myself a meal. But a dentist’s visit? Woe is me! I feel more vulnerable with a dentist than even with my gynecologist. All sorts of thoughts flow in and out of my head. Their work reminds me of the fence that a contractor is putting in my backyard. Saw and nail. Saw and nail. Dig, dig, plant that post. What if they slipped a bit? What if her hand is not as steady as it should be, even for a moment? I imagine all sorts of horrors that could happen inside my dark, dark mouth. I keep watch for that taste of blood, metallic and salty. As close as I would come to being a carnivore. Open mouthed and vulnerable. And back at it a couple of weeks from now.