These Modern Times

My mouth was surprised today by the latest and greatest in oral technology.

Maybe it's our brand new big-city dentist breaking ground, but then again, maybe I'm just the girl time forgot?

I haven't been to see a dentist in somewhere around six or seven years, so my memories are somewhat dim. But last time I was in a dentist's office, I remember first a long wait in the lobby. (To while away the time, I got to choose between staring at the glass block wall I will always associate with dentistry or reading six month old editions "Highlights for Kids" and "Better Homes and Gardens.") I was eventually escorted into a narrow cubicle, sat down in a plain gray chair, poked for a while, stared at for a few brief moments by an extremely busy man who shot out multisyllabic jargon while a humble assistant hastily scribbled notes on the side, and finally sent home with congratulations on my beautiful smile. I was too old, alas, even to claim a piece of candy for my trouble.

Today, my first toe was hardly over the threshold before I was greeted at the front desk and whisked away to a side office to fill out paperwork. I was inclined to be impressed at the quick service, until I remembered that I was five minutes late for my appointment.

While filling out paperwork, I was offered coffee (!), juice (!), or hot chocolate (!!). This was before a dental exam, with no way to brush my teeth.

I declined.

The next shock was when I was subjected to a rigorous id process--all digitized. A fancy digital camera was used to capture photos of "you, for our records," "your smile, close up," "a bigger smile," "a quick series of close-up snapshots of your teeth from various angles"...that last turned into a ten minute or so ordeal with my lips being stretched in every imaginable direction and even a mirror taking it's turn in the process since the dentist wished to capture a "mirror image of your bite." (!!) All that fuss doesn't even count the xrays.

The digitized xray paraphenalia didn't fit in my mouth as well as the old-fashioned xray film they used to use, requiring them to take and retake the xrays. But in the end they were all lined up neatly on a computer screen in front of me with no processing time required.

I could have cared less. I was ready to be poked and go home already.

("You're sitting on a massage pad right now, would you like that turned on for you?" (!!))

The poking, I must say, was thoroughly old-fashioned. Nothing changed there. The multisyllabic discourse was as thoroughly incomprehensible as usual but the hasty notes of the dental assistant weren't scribbled but typed. When it was all over, I got to see a computerized picture of my mouth, complete with bright red spots wherever a cavity was found.

I was offered a cookie and a water bottle ("room temp or cold?"!!) on my way out the door. Oh, yes, and I was complimented on my beautiful smile. But I think they have to say that, there.