Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Of Dental Hygiene

I try very hard to like dental hygienists, because on the whole they are nice people, but I do have one problem with them. I come in all cheery with my nice clean teeth and healthy (I think) gums, and the hygienist picks up a sharp instrument and digs away with it until my gums bleed. Then the following conversation takes place. Always.
DH "Ha! Gum disease!"
Me "That's because you poked them!"
DH "Nope. Gum disease."
Me "But they're fine. They don't hurt and they don't bleed, or only when you poke them."
DH (changing tack) "You can't see what I see."
Me "Possibly not. But I know what they feel like."
DH (dreamily) "Some surgeries have little cameras, and you can show the patients what their gums look like."
Me "Uuuuuuungh..." because by now she's back in there and I'm lying with my mouth wide open, thinking how much I don't want to see what my gums look like, and what will they think of next?
She then (today) told me about her 40th birthday treat (a trip to the foothills of Everest) and her (nice) stepson and why she was wearing a flower in her hair, and when I'd got my mouth back, we exchanged gory stories about the smelliest jobs we'd ever had to do (this was with my nursing cap on). If anyone reads this, and they would really like to know what my smelliest job was, I'll email it to you, but actually you don't want to know.


  1. I would have to agree - going to the dental hygienist is certainly in the top 5 of my least favourite things to do. Too close to my head. And my whole skull seems to resonate when they use that dreadful scrapey cleaner gadget they seem so keen on. Then to top it off they tell me off for not coming to see them more often. Hardly surprising when they do that to me every time I pay them a visit.