I know the drill
Wednesday marked the last of my trips to the dentist, at least until my next cleaning rolls around. Yes, I had some cavities, and because my jaw is slightly less than cooperative, they had to split all of the work I needed done into four sessions.
Now, I like to think that I'm a reasonably tough old goat, but dental visits cause me true anxiety. They didn't really used to; my old dentist in Tulsa always called me a model patient. But once I reached adulthood, that chair and those instruments suddenly became terrifying, so much so that I neglected going to the dentist for far too long (and look where that got me).
My new dentist, Dr. Brock Lynn (yep, free advertising for the man who has acquired quite a pretty penny from the Shaddocks), is simply awesome. He's kind and efficient, and he oozes competence. His office is more like a spa than a dental office. The bathrooms are stocked with free mini-toothbrushes and mouthwash and smell heavenly (really!). Each of the exam rooms is equipped with a television mounted on the ceiling and headphones for listening to music or TV, and the chairs are massage chairs with multiple settings. And, according to the hold music on their phone line, complimentary paraffin hand treatments are available on request. It's insane! On my first visit he offered me free nitrous oxide. I hadn't had too much exposure to this, so I figured I might as well try it. There I was, watching Oprah with the headphones on while the massage chair did its thing -- high as a kite on nitrous oxide. It was a bit overwhelming. I opted not to use the gas on subsequent visits, but that first appointment certainly was memorable.
Anyway, if you live in Dallas, or if you ever move to Dallas, you really should consider Dr. Lynn for all your dental needs. He and his staff are superb, and they made what is normally terrifying totally bearable. The only truly unsettling moment came on my last visit when, drill in hand, he began humming part of Carmina Burana by Carl Orff. Mouth and tongue numbed to oblivion, I managed to mumble "Carmina Burana?" After I explained to him that Carmina Burana was sort of scary and that is was, in fact, part of the score for Conan the Barbarian, he merely chuckled and assured me he'd had it in his head all day because of an ad he saw, not because he's merciless and cruel. "Hmmm," I thought, "a likely tale." But sure enough, after he'd filled the last beastly cavity, he found the ad online and played it for me with the volume cranked up so high several people poked their heads around the corner to see what the deal was. And I left the office wearing a huge, toothy grin.
