October 02, 2001 - 4:36 p.m.
I hate seeing the dentist.
It isn't the fear of possible pain or discomfort. I learned how to handle that when I had braces as a teen. And it isn't the bizarre tools, gloves, and masks. They don't bother me. It's the emotional plunge I take when they find something wrong.
See, your teeth are totally under your own care. Aside from a few genetic propensities, your oral health is completely your own doing. And, of course, problems are a result of your lack of attentiveness.
I hate to admit that I have fillings - they're a badge of failure. At least I can console myself that I was 12 and careless and I've learned my lesson. Until today.
Granted, fillings don't last forever and mine have reached the end of their prime. It's been nearly 20 years, after all. But... I've acquired a few new cavities since my last checkup (I really shouldn't have skipped that 6 month checkup in January) and they need to be taken care of, too. And then there's a crack in one of the molars... I guess that explains the cold pain back there.
[sigh]
I've already started dealing with the [insert proper degrading adjective here] HMO, who seem to think that the procedure should cost something just slightly less than half what the dentist quoted. And calling my mother, who isn't home, for sympathy and babysitting. She was planning to drive down next week anyway.
I just wish it were all on one side of my mouth, so I could cover it in one appointment. But no. Nothing is easy.
