Dental Notes

The few of you that know me well in this world know that I abhor dentists. It's beyond dislike. It's a visceral instinct of Pavlovian fear and loathing built over my entire child and early adulthood. I have the scars on my teeth to show for it. And the copious notes that the dentists leave to themselves. In six months, however, this may all change.

I have a new dentist, Dr. Ted Lee. I've been in his practice for years, but for years I had an evil doctor that detested me almost as much as I her, which is unfair because despite my sensitive gag reflex, my teeth probably put her kid through four years at a private college. Dr. Lee, on the other hand, is much nicer. Despite the fact that I share the same name with her daughter and that that fact has been commented on every single time I've been to his practice for the past seven years. For one thing, he has not told me that I've had a cavity and I've seen him twice. He also really takes care of poor pastors. And pretends to believe me when I say I floss every night. Today, he talked about an art exhibit he saw in my town as he poked at me with sharp instruments and spoke to me in Chinglish, my preferred language. I'm not quite ready to say that the bad blood between dentists and me are over just because I had two good visits, but check back with me at my next appointment in six months, we'll see how things go from there.