With each child came a crown. No, not the gold one, an enamel one that had to take the place of a rotten tooth. Not only rotten mind you, but so painful that I would rather have had C-sections many times over again! These little people who I call the joys of my life, drained the calcium from my chompers with glee, as they built their bones from the minerals I had stored up in my mouth.
And so I went to the local gold diggers in Kalgoorlie. No, they do not mine for gold in the super pit these days, they do it in the mouths of the mothers who have just given birth. Problem is that they do not conduct fair transactions, because while they get their pots of gold, we get a hell of a lot of pain, and mouths that drool excessively! No joy in that retail therapy at all. (Would it have been more rewarding if it was indeed a golden crown that they glued to my gums?)
There I was, lying on the dentist chair, while the youngster told me that he would be putting a blue rubbery thingy inside my mouth, to stop the excess saliva from doing, I do not know what. There you have it, I have too much saliva! Hmmmm…. So I nodded, because you can’t speak understandably when you lie there with you mouth wide open and your jaw stretched from here to eternity. It is no small feat to install that blue rubbery thingy, let me tell you. They attach it to one of the molars at the back and fix it with some or other tool at the front, all while you are lying there, like a lamb being led to slaughter.
For the next ninety minutes you keep yourself company with thoughts that come and go. One of the thoughts that I entertained while being crowned was how a visit to a dentist is slightly overshadowed by a visit to the gynae. Both of them ask you questions at the most awkward of times.
A visit to the gynae is always preceded by a good bath and a waxing/nairing/shaving session. I dread those visits. It does not matter how soft his bedside manner is, I always hear him say, “Relax a bit.” How? How on earth do you relax when a duckbilled ice-cold thing is invading your most private bits? Thank goodness it is not a drawn-out exam.
Whenever I prepare for a visit such as this I remember the lady who also had to go to her gynae, but she was in a bit of a hurry and she did not have time for the usual bath and whatever she did before. She just grabbed her little girl’s face-washer and did a clean as best as she could. During the exam the doctor mumbled, “You did not have to go through the trouble.” She did not understand what he meant but also did not say anything to attempt and clarify. Until she got at home later that night and saw that the facecloth was full of glitter! Talk about being a princess!
Back to the dentist and me on the chair, being held down by imaginary cables. I have a set position for those chairs. Ankles crossed primly and properly, hand folded firmly across my tummy. My shoulders pulled back into the chair and after a while my neck starts to go into a spasm. Of course I am not scared! What on earth would give you this idea? Who in their right mind would not be freaking out when the sound of an angle grinder goes off in their mouth, and you simultaneously get the smelling taste of swimming-pool chlorine and burning enamel?
As I was lying there with all the smells and sensations wafting around, the blue rubbery thingy kept blocking my one nostril, and I am sure that it was looking like the plastic bags that are blown against the fences. Combine this with the suction apparatus that they use to get rid of the excess saliva and the dentist instructing me to open wider (If I openend any wider he would have been like Samson who defeated the Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey!) and you have the ingredients for a very fertile imagination session. Just imagine – you are either lying on the gynae bed, or dentist chair and an earthquake shakes the ground. Do you think the gynae will keep presence of mind and remove the papsmear thing first before he runs for the exit? Or what do you think will the reaction be when you storm out of the dentist rooms with the blue rubbery thing still attached? I had to really stop myself from giggling so that the dentist could continue with his gold digging.
Words of wisdom to you lucky few who are in for a visit to the gynae or the dentist. Read the weather report and make sure no earthquakes are predicted, visit your dentist yearly and make sure the facecloth you grab is not your little beglittered princess’.