Why Going to the Dentist Sucks

Last year I spent trying to find a decent dentist that was covered under my insurance plan. Unfortunately, there was a wide range of about 7 dentists to choose from which included dentists such as Value Dental, Dollar Dental and Meth-teeth No More Dental. I just couldn’t pull the trigger and choose a new dentist despite feeling like I had at least 1 cavity. To my delight, our dental plan changed in December and I was able to go back to our original dentist.


Since it had been over a year, the dental assistant explained she would need to get a “few” x-rays. The “few” x-rays turned into a combined total of 18 x-rays. She began by sticking this horrible contraption in my mouth that I had to somehow balance with my tongue while she took the glamour shot. At one point this medieval torturing device cut the roof of my mouth. And the icing on the cake? The last pic where she almost stuck the damn thing down my throat and I gagged.

‘I almost threw up on you,’ I thought. ‘That would have been awkward girl.’


If I go to hell, I will have to have my teeth polished every day, for all of eternity. I think it’s the nasty grit of the polish I hate. My favorite thing about the polish is when they ask me what flavor I would like.

That’s on par with asking if I’d prefer a colonoscopy, pap smear or blood drawn.

“Surprise me,” I said sarcastically, “they are all equally disgusting.”

She looked at me as if I had personally insulted her cooking.

“How about orange creme? I think it’s less gritty,” she responded.

“Do you have bacon flavor?”

“No,” she responded.

“Then orange creme will do.”

The Scraping

Before my desert of orange creme, I needed to have my teeth scraped. Apparently this takes an entirely different professional, as a new tech came in to do this. I guess the first one was not experienced enough in scrapping crud off teeth.

I am confident she scraped out an entire steak dinner, complete with a Caesar salad. She scraped for like 25 minutes. I felt my breath become grosser and grosser until occasionally I wondered if I could hold my breath for the remainder of the procedure as to not offend her. And what was left? Me wearing a blue bib complete with the grime, blood and whatever else she pulled out. I wondered if I should just start drooling at this point given the demeaning bib I was wearing.

The Final Exam

To my surprise I had no additional cavities. The dentist again, scared me about needing a new crown. Considering it’s over $1,000, out-of-pocket, I’m willing to take my chances. In fact, they said long-term, I could possibly lose the tooth. And do you know the first thought that came to my cheap-ass mind?

‘Well the tooth is in the back. No one would really notice it’s gone.’

I also voiced this and instantly regretted it,

“I don’t need that stupid tooth anyway,” I said, slapping my thigh.

“It’s not a stupid tooth and you need it!” She said chuckling.

Next week I take my sons to the dentist and I can only imagine the amount of cavities they will have. They avoid personal hygiene like the plague.

This post is in response to the Daily Prompt: Cavity



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