It's pretty much guaranteed that I will almost singlehandedly finance my dentist's children when they go to college. I've never gone to an appointment when he hasn't found a cavity. Last time, I had to have four filled. In addition, two were too small for him to do anything with, so he wanted to wait and see if they grew any before my next appointment. For those whizzes out there who can't handle a little addition (like me) that's a total of six. SIX cavities. I brush twice a day and floss once a day.
When my wife and I got out of our appointments, she made the following comment:
"Man, I like going to the dentist. He looked at my teeth and said, 'Wow, you have perfect teeth.' It's nice to get a little ego boost."
It was then I got to tell her about my six new friends taking up residence in my mouth. Needless to say, I REALLY hope my daughter gets my wife's teeth.
I've always been proud of myself that I haven't ever had a procedure at the dentist's office that required Novocaine. During college, I was bad and didn't go to the dentist like I should have. After I graduated, I went and found out I had a couple cavities (surprise, surprise). When he started to fill them, I was surprised when he suddenly came at me with a needle. I let him do what he had to, all the while coming to grips with the fact that my streak was over. Then he started drilling. I didn't feel a thing. It was amazing, and it was only then when I realized something about my childhood dentist. I don't think he believed in Novocaine because I had a vivid flashback to the dentist's chair growing up. I remember feeling the burning pain of the drill in my mouth as I tried not to move. I remember being afraid that if I jumped or jolted, that drill would slip and go through my lip or something. Instead, I held as still as possible, and gripped the armrests with all my might.
Now, I know what I was missing.
Oddly enough, I don't mind going to the dentist. Maybe I'm just resigned to the continual relationship I have with the drill.