I used to be fine with going to the dentist. I even begged Mum for braces so I could fix my buckteeth when I was 16 years old in the hopes of becoming the next Elle McPherson. I did end up with straight teeth but those modelling aspirations never took flight. Two left feet and enjoying food way too much were to blame. I could never afford private health care in my 20’s as I was too busy spending my money on good times, bad men, cheap wine and expensive takeaway. But I still diligently made the trip to the dentist occasionally and it was no big deal. I think I even enjoyed it at times as I got to read the latest magazines and have a little rest. I had really good teeth. Now they seem coffee -stained wino teeth that are over sensitive and just want to be left alone. That sums me up, in general, these days come to think of it.
So now in my 40’s the thought of having chain saws buzzing in my mouth and pokey /proddy silver sticks with hooks on the end (their technical name) gashing into my gums makes me so nervous I could run and eat a whole tub of chocolate rocky road ice cream. Sorry Dr Chris. You do not actually use those power tools but the thought of all that noisy steel in my mouth makes my hands sweat. Our lovely Buderim dentist is my long suffering professional who has watched me fall off the rails when it comes to being a reasonable and mentally fit patient.
And now of course I have a tribe of beautiful kids and private health care so we can all toddle off to have our check ups twice a year. Ensuring we go for these check ups is the only thing that makes me stop from screaming in pain of the agony of the health care cost. With all my guilt I would make a good Catholic. So I have to put on this big song and dance how great the dentist is and how much fun it is. My kids used to be scared of going but now THEY love it. We have swapped roles. While I am pretending to be so excited to be at the dentist, all the while I am silently gagging at those ‘dentisty’ sounds. I know that is not a word either. But it should be. When the kids are not looking I roll my eyes at Dr Chris and put my finger in my mouth pretending I am going to actually be sick. You know the immature teenage behaviour I refer to, right?
And to top it all off, I had a crown fall out this week because I stupidly ate a hard chewy caramel lolly coated in chocolate at work. You know the evil little squares I refer to? The only lollies more guilty of wreaking havoc on teeth are no doubt Kool Mints, Minties and Fantails. Together they inflict more evil on this world than the clan of Kardashians. I work at a radio station and one of the finest attributes is there are always bowls of lollies on offer. My thighs hate these saucers of sin that scream out my name for a little pick me up at about 3:00pm every afternoon. Well, one bite into the caramel chew and the whole crown came out completely and didn’t I feel stupid. I walked in to see Dr Chris and told the poor lady at the reception before even saying hello “I will need lots and lots of anaesthetic.” Then when Dr Chris came in and started asking how my kids are I cut him off and pleaded “Load me up. Lots and lots of drugs. I want to be really numb.” The crown went back on seamlessly. I turned into a chipmunk who could not feel my face for hours. Now my job is to talk on the radio, so that afternoon shift was probably not my finest work with a lisp slurring my speech for the majority of the show and my on air partner pointing to my chin to tell me I was dribbling every half hour or so. On top of that I was kind of off my head on the painkillers. Most weeks I am not too sure how I actually keep my job. But I am glad I have it because I have to help pay for that crazy health care cover.