Thursday, May 8, 2008

My Hour in the Torture Chair

Er...umm...I mean, my hour at the dentist.

I got there 15 minutes early hoping to get in early. That, of course, rarely works and they got to me 15 minutes late. Then I get the hygienist who likes to chat. I love when they ask questions while they are picking your teeth. Like I can say anything other than, "at eela ine" or "eh own oo at". Then, the dentist comes in and picks at my teeth. They start speaking their secret language behind my head. I hear numbers, and words like "distal" and "lingual". He pokes at my teeth again and says, "Oh yeah, that's a 29 DL." My dentist has a really unique way of talking. It's kind of deadpan and then he inflects unexpectedly. I suddenly imagined him saying, "Breaker, Breaker, that's a two-niner delta lima," which gave me the giggles. Luckily, they were too busy speaking their own language to notice. Then, he turns to me and translates. He says, "OK, my friend, on your bottom right you've got a little decay that we're gonna need to fix." But if you were a dentist/hygienist, you probably already knew that!

1 comment:

Chad & Shantay said...

Sorry to hear you met the grim reaper, opps I mean the densit. lol