I Hate the Dentist

Actually my new dentist is a very nice woman who is much more proactive than the two young guys who took over the practice of my previous dentist when he was diagnosed with lung cancer and subsequently died just a short time after Will did. She was very happy to explain the things she proposed for my near life-long struggle with my gums. The hygienist who cleaned my teeth - I can live without ever even running into to him again. It took all my self-control not to hurt him. Some people are born without the touch to be a hygienist and he is one of them.

No great dental report for Kate or me. She has a tiny cavity that has to be pasted over or something. It won’t need freezing. She is a terrible brusher and now I have proof to hang over her head that I would rather not have, but what can you do. I have ever receding gums and the dentist wants to fill in some places to prevent bone loss, of which I have a tiny bit in the back. I guess I can live with this dour report but it is less than I had hoped for and oddly takes me back to my teens when nothing I did seemed to prevent cavities and lectures about my inadequacy. God do I hate those trips down memory lane.

Oh well, nothing to be done but the obvious.