Memorable Visit to the Dentist
When a young lad, mom used to take all four of us children to the dentists in one morning. It got things out of the way, she didn’t have to make the drive over and over and we had each other to keep time with. This usually meant it was in the hot, humid months.

Now in those days before the government got involved with everything, there was a certain pride to being a dentist (many years of school while buddies got drunk, lost sleep studying and residency). As such, dentists dressed up for their patients in at least a starched shirt and tie, not the new age hippie clothes, or worse, the SpongeBob scrubs.

Young BC was with his siblings when it was his turn to go behind the desk that demarcated the line of authority. Only special people went behind the desk, unless, by the grace of all things sacred, they were invited. It was like being inducted into the hall of fame. Well, maybe not.

Anyways, I was taken into an exam room where the dental hygienist proceeded to scrape 30% teeth 70% gums with her Marquis de Sade brand torture devices. Following several “rinsing and spitting” blood and the like I was told that according to their records, I was due for some fluoride.

Instead of the brief fluoride “wipings” that they administer now, in those days, they gave you a pint of blue juice and told you to swish for 30 seconds, but not to swallow. Being the good little boy that I was, I complied, perhaps taking a larger gulp than I should have, and sat there agitating the blue fluid in my mouth, combining it with ever increasing saliva. I think the hygienist chose this time to take a break because I was stuck there, my eager whisking my fluoride turning to an amalgamate of spit and blue juice.

Did I hinder the advise not to swallow – I tried, but it was a marathon swishing, so some inevitably slipped down the esophagus. When she finally came back my jaws were nackered and I had no more strength.

Then it was time to see the dentist; all prim and proper, doing the myriad of things that dentists do in order to make us feel our money is well spent. It all went wrong when he used the tongue depressor to do a full examination. He asked me to say, “Ahh”, and due to the overdose of fluoride, I said “Aaaarrrgghhh” and proceeded to empty my stomach: on him, his assistant, myself and the floor.

Ever the professional, the doctor took a moment to assess the situation, looked at his lap and said in a calm voice, “I see you had hot dogs for lunch.”
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 19:45, 1 reply)

click!
That made I chuckle!
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 23:36, closed)