Am feeling sleepy. Why? I just got my mouth cleaned. How? Well it is the twice annual event called 'Dental Cleaning' aka a professional mouth cleaner enters my oral cavity with tools and performs a thorough scrub a dub that takes 45 min.
After all the pounding and drilling and scratching my head hurts to the point where I feel very woozy. Hence the sleepy comment.
So what is this amazing exercise I speak of you ask? Let me explain it as follows:
I call it 'The Mandibular Show'. My cleaning lady aka dental hygienist is called Mandi and I am not kidding. She really is. And she cleans the inside of my jaws. Aka my gum and teeth. Twice annually. I come out presumably with a winning smile once I am awake. So back to explaining the process.
1. Arrive at appointed hour at dentist office and grab one of many chairs and pretend to read some idiotic magazine till they call you in.
2. Arrive at the reclining chair for the episode titled - dental cleaning. Smile if you can and make idiotic small talk about my kid and the cleaning lady's kid(s) - if I remember if she had kids ... sometimes I forget.
3. Then wear a purple paper towel called a bib around your neck and put on a star trekkish goggle on your face to avoid your optical rods and cones from being burned by the bright light attached to the reclining chair.
4. Recline and stare at the cleaning lady putting on gloves and start gathering threatening instruments that are about to make an appearance close to tender oral parts.
5. A sharp pointy tool is poked along the gum line to check the depth of creeping decay in my gums. And some numeric notations are made on a computer in the back somewhere.
5. Bright light comes on and the hum of the suction machine (to drain away all fluid from the oral cavity during servicing) begins. Soon the ear piercing whine of the compressed water jet kicks in.
6. Stage 1 - the water jet is projected into all the crevices amidst my well laid out teeth to dislodge detritus from the Chinese Chow Mein with grilled shrimp (that is what I ate before coming). The water is under high pressure and pulsing and is directed at the gum line till I feel like my entire skull is going to explode.
7. Once said activity concludes and suction pipe has sucked my lungs out (leaves my mouth feeling downright arid) she (my cleaner) calmly suggests that I wipe my face with the purple towel round my neck. Apparently some blood spattered out? Who knows.
8. Stage 2 - Next we proceed to the phase where she uses another sharp implement and scores my teeth to get plaque out while constantly admonishing me how I need to get better at flossing and using tools and accoutrements that help with keeping a good dental setup. What?
9. Am I supposed to process the words coming out of her mask while trying to practice Vipassana so I can be far removed from the current plight? This is atrocious. Can she keep her thoughts to herself? I wonder.
10. Stage 3 - She has decided to show me how a floss is to be used and goes ahead and does this activity (I'm sure there is a math formula or factorial to figure this) on number of gaps between available teeth.
11. That done she actually proceeds to brush my teeth for me. This clown never learned anything or some such thought that she does not voice loudly.
12. Then we are done. Or so I thought. But wait. What about blasting this nice mouth with some X -rays she asks? It has been a while we exposed you to cancerous rays artificially and purposely aimed at your tender parts. I decline. I also decline an expert examination to be performed by somebody with a DDS degree. I need to get out before I completely collapse.
13. I walk out trying to get my bearing and figuring out what my name is and realize I need to get back to work.
After all the pounding and drilling and scratching my head hurts to the point where I feel very woozy. Hence the sleepy comment.
So what is this amazing exercise I speak of you ask? Let me explain it as follows:
I call it 'The Mandibular Show'. My cleaning lady aka dental hygienist is called Mandi and I am not kidding. She really is. And she cleans the inside of my jaws. Aka my gum and teeth. Twice annually. I come out presumably with a winning smile once I am awake. So back to explaining the process.
1. Arrive at appointed hour at dentist office and grab one of many chairs and pretend to read some idiotic magazine till they call you in.
2. Arrive at the reclining chair for the episode titled - dental cleaning. Smile if you can and make idiotic small talk about my kid and the cleaning lady's kid(s) - if I remember if she had kids ... sometimes I forget.
3. Then wear a purple paper towel called a bib around your neck and put on a star trekkish goggle on your face to avoid your optical rods and cones from being burned by the bright light attached to the reclining chair.
4. Recline and stare at the cleaning lady putting on gloves and start gathering threatening instruments that are about to make an appearance close to tender oral parts.
5. A sharp pointy tool is poked along the gum line to check the depth of creeping decay in my gums. And some numeric notations are made on a computer in the back somewhere.
5. Bright light comes on and the hum of the suction machine (to drain away all fluid from the oral cavity during servicing) begins. Soon the ear piercing whine of the compressed water jet kicks in.
6. Stage 1 - the water jet is projected into all the crevices amidst my well laid out teeth to dislodge detritus from the Chinese Chow Mein with grilled shrimp (that is what I ate before coming). The water is under high pressure and pulsing and is directed at the gum line till I feel like my entire skull is going to explode.
7. Once said activity concludes and suction pipe has sucked my lungs out (leaves my mouth feeling downright arid) she (my cleaner) calmly suggests that I wipe my face with the purple towel round my neck. Apparently some blood spattered out? Who knows.
8. Stage 2 - Next we proceed to the phase where she uses another sharp implement and scores my teeth to get plaque out while constantly admonishing me how I need to get better at flossing and using tools and accoutrements that help with keeping a good dental setup. What?
9. Am I supposed to process the words coming out of her mask while trying to practice Vipassana so I can be far removed from the current plight? This is atrocious. Can she keep her thoughts to herself? I wonder.
10. Stage 3 - She has decided to show me how a floss is to be used and goes ahead and does this activity (I'm sure there is a math formula or factorial to figure this) on number of gaps between available teeth.
11. That done she actually proceeds to brush my teeth for me. This clown never learned anything or some such thought that she does not voice loudly.
12. Then we are done. Or so I thought. But wait. What about blasting this nice mouth with some X -rays she asks? It has been a while we exposed you to cancerous rays artificially and purposely aimed at your tender parts. I decline. I also decline an expert examination to be performed by somebody with a DDS degree. I need to get out before I completely collapse.
13. I walk out trying to get my bearing and figuring out what my name is and realize I need to get back to work.
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