First of all, the last time I had a dentist appointment, George Bush was in his first term, Kaballah hadn't been invented yet, and Jennifer Lopez had finished recording her first album. This should give you an indication of the last time I had been to the dentist. I'm not particularly afraid of the dentist, it's just that this is the first time that I have had a job with dental benefits. So I foolishly decided to use them. I made a deal with Shoniqua that I would get dental coverage ONLY if she signed up for life insurance. I think she may have gotten the better end of the bargain. I made my appointment on today of all days, CINCO DO MAYO! The receptionist told me over the phone that she would have my margarita ready. I was VERY excited! On account of me not having a vehicle, I asked Evangeline if she would drive me this morning because she had so smartly decided to have her dental work done on this non-Mexican bullshit holiday as well.
I very clearly remember as a kid going to a gigantic building with a lobby bigger than my Kinder garden classroom when I visited the dentist. Apparently things have changed. The entire dental office was no bigger than the size of my kitchen. When I became aware of this I immediately began to perspire. Without Evangeline I probably would have imploded completely. I decided to make a quick toilet trip and return to the very soft couch where I patiently filled out my form. In my dreary state at 8 o'clock in the morning I joyously filled out the section "Who will be responsible for this bill" and answered "ME!" with a sideways happy face. I feel like people who work in dental offices so seldomly experience joy, I wanted to be the catalyst for that opportunity. As I handed back the form, the receptionist indicated to me that there was a backside along with two other forms attached behind that I had failed to fill out. I guess that's what happens when the evening prior you make seven cosmopolitans for yourself in preparation for your next day dental appointment. As I scanned through the backside of the form, I came across to a very strange question (among many): "Do you have any artificial heart valves?". I placed my pen firmly inside the "No" box and paused for a moment. After a second of reflection I remembered, "Oh that's right! I do!". I had completely forgotten that as a child I had open heart surgery. I was born with a birth defect called "coarctation of the aorta". I had a thinning of the aorta, the main valve entering the heart. To fix it, they put in a "stent" which treats artery blockage. For some reason, in those 2 seconds my pen was pressed inside the "No" box, it all came flooding back to my memory. I checked the "Yes" box and walked on in not thinking anything of it.
I walked into the "office" (I use this term loosely) and sat down on a lovely grey leather reclinable seat. "The chair of death" would have been a more appropriate title. Let me explain that this particular visit was of little previous stress on the fact that this was only for the purposes of x-rays and consultation, ie. there will be no razors, knives, needles, or sharp object of any kind near your mouth. I met this lovely Black woman whom was my "dental assistant". She spoke with a peculiar drawl. She instructed me to open my mouth to which she inserted a plastic device that looked like a prop on the Nicki Minaj Stripper Tour. She was supposedly there not for my entertainment but to take X-rays. Let the mouth-rape begin! She stuck that plastic ho all the way to the back of my mouth almost causing me to gag. This feeling is quite familiar as this happened one time with a banana when I was twelve. Somehow, I resisted vomiting and allowed her to take the x-ray with some temperamental gadget. She repeated this awful exercise four times! Finally, once she completed she went to go print the pictures. When she came back, she informed me that the photographs from the x-ray were completely jacked up! Can you believe it? All of that suffering and I needed to go through this shit again!? Really!? I needed to write a letter. So naturally, they brought the White woman over to do the job properly. THOSE photographs were fine.
The Black dental assistant with the very strange Southern accent in blue scrubs came back to visit. "What next?!" I thought. She instructed me to stand up. She lead me over to some ridiculous R2-D2 like contraption. She told me to step inside the chamber of doom and rest my chin on a tongue-shaped slab. From there, I was to open my mouth and slide it over a metal gadget. Was this a Kim Kardashian video? From there, she told me to hang on to two handle bars, each with one hand. She explained that I needed to remain incredibly still and upright. Clearly, this bitch was trying to kill me! Out of nowhere, these two plastic globes began spinning around my head in VERY close proximity. My eyes widened more than Pamela Anderson's vagina over Spring Break. I peed a little. I haven't felt so nervous in my life since the time I pooped under the slide in Kinder garden! I felt like I was being abducted by aliens. This was absolutely horrifying. There was nothing I could do but shake profusely in my stillness and soil myself secretly (in that order).
After that monstrosity I was instructed to head back into the chair and lie comfortably. Really? How could I be comfortable after being mouth raped? This was absurd! I thought this was merely a consultation! See, that's how they get you! Those bitches! I lay down and in comes yet ANOTHER character to this story! I remember the last time I visited the dentist (12 years ago), I only saw TWO people: the receptionist and the dentist. Nowadays you see a myriad of people in a twenty minute span of a consultation. This was absolute craziness. In walked a White lady (different from the one who took the good x-rays) in scrubs with floral decoration. I immediately started laughing uncontrollably: this is what I refer to as the "church giggles". I tried VERY hard to maintain my composure (unfortunately this was to no avail). At this point, the NEW and improved second round version of X-rays had been printed. The assistant handed them to the White lady. She put them against a bright light and stared for a moment. After a brief pause she said "WHAT'S THAT!?!?!" as she pointed at the photograph! "I don't know bitch! YOU'RE THE DOCTOR!" was my first thought. Somehow I refrained from turning that phrase into vocal and/or audible reality. I just stared at her in disbelief. Talk about bedside manner! Apparently the second round of pictures were no good either. As I peered toward the picture I realized that there was a black line stricken completely through the photograph making it look like my teeth bad been detached from the gums! I couldn't believe it! I swore if they made me do a third round of the gag reflex that I would throw up on the Black lady! I really would! But alas, the White lady seemed disinterested in the X-rays. She, instead, asked me to open on up and have yet another look.
At the precise moment when I was going to receive my follow-up mouth-rape Caucasian style, the assistant walked back into the room to point something that apparently was rather important. Remember the plastic heart valve? Supposedly this little issue that I almost failed to remember would ultimately inhibit anyone from mouth-raping me again! The assistant and the dentists there explained to me that I need to receive antibiotics before they would even touch me with a metal pole! I didn't realize it would be an issue, at least not in the stage of the game that would only include a consultation. I was wrong. They immediately brought out a lovely little plastic cup containing some delicious penicillin. I swallowed four lovely pills. I didn't gag on them, I promise. The White lady came back to finish what she had started, the mouth rape. She peered inside and poked and prodded. I was surprised that even with just a simple look-see that I felt quite uncomfortable. This made me concerned for the future. What she was about to tell me was not going to make the situation much better. Once she shined the bright E.T. light off of my face she explained to me that I needed something special called a "deep cleaning". This is when they go underneath your gums with sharp metal objects for over an hour and a half. Supposedly this procedure is so painful that many patients opp to do it in two separate appointments freezing half of their mouth at a time. She recommended to me that I simply get a slightly numbing gel that would allow her to do my entire mouth in one shot. However, this gel would not completely alleviate the pain. She also explained that should I get numbing shots which would completely numb my mouth, they would not be able to do my entire my mouth because I would feel like I was swallowing my own tongue. Sounds to me like a mouth gangbang!
After receiving this horrific news (I opted to go with the slightly numbing gel for financial reasons, just wait for THAT blog!) I thought my journey into detriment was over. This was not the case. After the White lady left, there was ANOTHER person who had to come bother me. FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! When was this torture going to be over? A dark-haired, Jewy, old man came waltzing on in. This man was apparently the REAL dentist. The big cheese! What was he going to do to me? You can't mouth-rape twice. Who wants sloppy seconds? Definitely not a Jew! He told me that he had a special machine that would look for cavities. He held this little metal device in his hand with a red light shooting out of it. He explained that when he held it up to a particular tooth, that the machine would let him know if there was a cavity there. He said he would hold it up to a tooth that he found to be suspect, if the machine beeped, it meant I had a cavity. No beep, no cavity. I immediately clenched my butt cheeks together and prayed to Jesus, Allah, and Moses. Apparently none of those bitches were available because that plastic ho done beeped FOUR TIMES! And you know what that means: FOUR CAVITIES! Really?! I had never had cavities in my life! My teeth are absolutely amazing! Or so I thought! How could I deal with the traumatic experience of having this little bitches filled in my own mouth! I can barely handle having an I.V. put in! Now I was going to have to have a needle in my own face! For Christ's sake!
In situations like this when I perspire profusely like Lil' Kim on Christian Singles Night at Youth Group, I find myself turning to my best friend, only second to Vodka, sarcasm! She truly never lets me down. So I asked the lovely White Dentist Man for a favor in response to a question of his. He asked me before he left "Whiter or Straighter?" I had no idea what this ho was talking about. "I'm neither", was my first response in my head until I realized he was referring to my teeth. I immediately declined. Cosmetic surgery is really not the kind of endeavour that should be taken on by anyone who makes two dollars an hour, ESPECIALLY a bi-racial Canadian! For real! However, in my declination, I considered something. "Do you do grills?" I asked. I was referring, of course, to Black people such as celebrities Flava Flav who don sparkling blinged out choppers from ear to ear! "No" he said swiftly. He explained that he is not interested in destroying teeth only for the purpose of making them golden. I then explained to him that he is truly missing out on a very huge market here in Dallas where people will happily go broke turning their children's teeth golden before getting braces. I'm just sayin!
I'm not exactly sure why my sensitivity to the world of health, hospitals, and dental offices has increased exponentially as I become older. I thought we were supposed to become more relaxed and mature about these situations. Not me! I've been pooping myself all day over this! July 11th is the date by the way! This is the day I will be mouth-raped like never before, THE DEEP CLEANING! After that, I have two separate appointments for my fillings, two each! OY VEY! The stress! This truly is Jesus punishing me for being such an ungrateful jackass. I really need to go to church more often. Maybe that will be a good prevention of any future mouth rape.
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