Turns out he's a comedian

I should have my mouth washed out.

Not just for my sailor talk some days, but actually washed, cleaned, scraped, out.

The dentist sends me into a complete panic attack. I hate it so much that I don't even read about it when other people have to go. I fear losing my teeth, but I fear the dentist even more.

So I avoid sugar in my drinks. I don't eat a lot of candy. I brush, floss, rinse, and water pic for my gums. I pray. Oh please, let my teeth be the teeth that don't need a dentist.

It hasn't always been this bad. I have always hated the noises that come from the dentist's tools. I think that is what bothers me the most. The scraping noises, and the poking of that damn pic thing. I hate the poking. The dread of finding a place that pic will stick.

Maybe if they didn't poke so hard, it wouldn't stick.

Completely irrational. I am completely and totally irrational.

Last night, when I was flossing, a chunk of the back of one of my front lower teeth came popping out with the floss. I went into hysterics. I was going to have to go to the dentist. And I had a HOLE in my tooth!

I cried myself to sleep, rubbing my tongue obsessively against the gaping hole in the back of my tooth.

This morning, I set about finding a dentist. That's right. I had to find a dentist here where I live. Where I have lived for an embarrassingly long time to not have a dentist.

I found one near the house and made an appointment for 11:45 AM. Then I sat and stewed. I chatted with some friends online who encouraged me and gave me great advice. They let me know that I wasn't alone in my irrational fears. I was scared to eat or drink anything because of the hole. I was scared to brush my teeth lest they all crumble into dust in my mouth.

Finally, it was time to go. I arrived early to fill out my paperwork. I had to wait another 30 minutes because they were squeezing me in as an emergency. When the nice girl came to take me back, she apologized for making me wait and told me that they were having issues.

I thought to myself, "I don't need to know that there are issues. Please don't tell me there are issues."

As I sat in that chair, waiting on the dentist, the tears came again. Then, thankfully, something got lodged on my contact, and I could blame the tears on my contact lens. He gave me a moment to clean them off and straighten them off, and then he looked in my mouth. He asked if I had looked in my mouth. I said I had tried.

"I've got some bad news."

The tears start coming back until I realize that my crap shoot of dentist choosing landed me a complete smart ass.

"You didn't break your tooth."

Did you know, that if you don't go to the dentist, that you can get calcium deposits built up on the backs of your teeth? I didn't. My ignorance didn't stop that from happening though.

I flossed away part of a calcium deposit. Something that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. The floss was actually doing it's job.

The dentist laughed at me and began to scrape. He scraped away the calcium and told me that I had good looking teeth for someone who hasn't had them cleaned in forever. Then he quickly added that he didn't mean I didn't need to make an appointment to have them x-rayed and cleaned after the baby comes.

Once again, I'm a tool. A big baby, and a tool.

At least though, there were no shots and no poking. I'm hoping he is far less funny in February though. Far. Less. Funny.