The Mellow Instrument

”Okay, I’m gonna go in with the ultrasound now. It sounds a little bit violent to the ear, and maybe a little annoying inside your mouth, but really it is just real mellow. Just tell me if it hurts. But it shouldn’t hurt. Wait a moment, I’m entangled. Damn these cords back here! Okay, there. Okay, you’re doing fine, a little more, a little more - why won’t you come off! A little bit more – Hey! Hallelujah, we’ve got actual gaps between teeth here! Okay, let’s take a break. You okay?”

“Fine. Actually, I was thinking that any man who uses the word ‘mellow’ about a dentist’s tool, cannot be evil to the core.”

“Well said!” (Laughter.)

Yep, I finally had the dreaded dental hygienist’s appointment to have my teeth cleaned. I couldn’t eat a damn thing before going in, all I could do was think again and again about how the X-ray had shown multiple fragmenting in the enamel, also known as early signs of cavities, times I don’t even know how many. That had been April. This was June. The two existing cavities aside, the check-up dentist had painted a ghastly picture of what my teeth-cleaning was going to be like.

“Don’t worry, the man I’m referring you to has worked with fear patients many times. But you need to go sooner rather than later, there is quite a lot of tartar here, and you’ll need to take care of that infection, he’ll need to open up that gum. Oh, but don’t worry, he’ll have the whole area anesthetized. Also, I am seeing signs of abrasion here, has anyone ever told you that you grind your teeth at night? Have you been undergoing stress lately?”

“What? I’ll need an anesthetic for teeth cleaning? Shit! Grind my teeth? No, no they haven’t, I had no idea I grind away at night. Can you just kill me now and get it over with?”

So, you can picture me panicked, as I, having gotten the appointment in a month’s time and not a second earlier, got up from bed at six and started pacing the apartment, waiting for seven to arrive so I could leave, very possibly to have my teeth yanked out by a merciless monster specializing in unnecessary anesthetizing and doing god knows what horrible deeds while the patient, that would be me!, was lying defenseless in the chair. All I could think of was the Steve Martin character in Little Shop of Horrors, which was disturbing enough in itself, since I really like Steve Martin, and would prefer to think of him in terms of likable characters.

Imagine my shock when the man turned out to be not only my own age and very gentle and careful, but extremely easy on the eyes as well. So much for insane Mr. Martin howling heehaws while drilling away with the look of a crazy person’s blood-thirst in his eyes.

Leaving the chair after a pleasant and, as demonstrated, humor-filled, hour of pain-free removal of tartar, and not having had my gums opened up, whatever that even means, nor with any of my teeth missing, I mused to myself that I had finally discovered the trick to distract myself from the pains of the teeth cleaning procedure. Just pick out the best looking dental hygienist and you’re good to go. Needless to say, he did not use anesthetics of any kind, and told me, contradicting the check-up doctor’s condemnation, that for someone who hadn’t come in in ten years (I’m afraid that’s true: do not try this at home, kids), I was a textbook example of thorough and meticulous dental care, and he was in fact surprised that all I had were two cavities that were so little I had been granted leniency, up until next fall, with the treatment.

Of course, no matter how good-looking, even the kindest and mellowest ones sometimes seem to feel the pressing need to hand out moronic advice on insomnia, if and when the subject comes up. My beautiful dental hygienist was no exception. I swear, if I had a nickel every time someone suggested having a glass of warm milk before bed, I’d throw the goddamn milk right into their face, not to mention being a lactose-infused millionaire. Lower bedroom temperature. Clearing your mind. Abstaining from eating after six. Counting sheep. Picking out neutral colors for the bedroom. Oh, and the best of all, something a colleague at work told me knowingly: When you are tired enough, sleep will come.

Yeah man, the forty-five minutes per night for eight months just meant I wasn’t tired enough yet.

But I forgave my dental person. He was just trying to be nice, and nice he was, so much so in fact, that at the end of our session, I found myself making another appointment with him.

“So, a year from now?” I asked. 

“Yes, a year is totally okay. And go eat something, you hear?” 

“Okay. Meanwhile”, I gestured around my face, “No horrible blood splatters anywhere? No Evil Dead?” He was laughing again. God, I love it when I have them laughing.

“No, no Evil Dead!”