I'm laying in the dentist's chair, my mouth wide open. The hygienist is cleaning my teeth. "My daughter is 39, she had in vitro and is expecting but the baby is coming early and so I need to get down there and be with her. My other daughter is also trying to get pregnant, she may have multiples and she will go crazy, she's difficult anyway, more than one will drive her over the wall. She's a depressive. Lots of problems. I'd like to live closer to them, I want to spend time with my grandchildren before they get too old, I tell my husband they won't want to have anything to do with us in a few years. Lots of people who come in here only see their kids once or twice a year. I don't understand that, I love being with family. I miss them," and on she went scraping and cleaning while I uhhuhed and nodded slightly at what seemed the appropriate times. "My husband loves it here, he doesn't want to leave, I want to go to Cincinnati where my daughter is, she's a little crazy, I think she could use our support but I don't like the cold. Maybe just in the summer. I hope my daughter in Charlotte doesn't deliver too early, the baby is only 33 weeks, she needs to be at least 37. It's not going to be a good Christmas if that baby shows up early. I hate Christmas shopping, we just send money, I only buy for the little ones. Well I buy for my dentist too because I've been with him forever and he cleans my teeth for free." The gritty toothpaste had come out and she was polishing each tooth with fervor. I continued to uhhuh and nod. When she finished she stood looking out the door of the room, "I don't know where he went he saw me standing here," she sighed and left the room.
The dentist entered, said hello, looked at my teeth, said looks good and walked out. "Do you want a toothbrush and toothpaste?" she asked. Pulling a bag from the drawer she handed it to me, made my next appointment and walked me to the desk.
I got into my car thinking about the 20 minute synopsis of her life I had just listened to. What an enviable thing to have someone's presence but inability to talk, respond, or divert you from your stream of consciousness. I wondered if she did this with every patient, at 20 minutes per patient she had 20 patients per day to express herself to, a totally captive 20 people at most probably. Wow, I might get a job as a dental hygienist. Was I too judgmental? Did I express empathy and compassion nonverbally or did she sense my indifference? In a court of law would I be found innocent or guilty of the crime of just not giving a shit? Or was my higher self in control, eliciting more information through the tonal quality of my uhhuhs? Did she do this to all her patients or only the ones who she sensed cared? Or did she sense I didn't care and decided to dump it on me as a punishment because she could?
Was I making too much of this brief encounter? Perhaps the chatter eased her stress at looking in mouths all day, who knew. I thought about what it must be like to have someone laying in front of you with their mouth wide open and to not have any idea what might be in that mouth. Pearly whites in a perfect row; jagged, crooked teeth with stains; malodorous breath that could knock one over; or teeth not cleaned daily. Gross! So who am I to judge the commentary of this employee. She can talk all day about her woes and deserves to since she has to look in those mouths, right?
What would I do in her position? Sitting in front of someone whose mouth is awful and filled with blood from my work would I sing, would I chat, would I groan? Perhaps I would fill the minutes with chatter about my life, my kids, my husband. Perhaps I would hum and grimace. I never wanted to be a dental hygienist but my mother was one. I wish now that I could ask her what that was like. I'd be interested in hearing what she thought about each day as she encountered patients. I cannot imagine her chattering idly as she worked but maybe. Too bad I'll never get the chance to ask. I'm starting the car and thinking I need to be sure to floss and brush every day twice so that I never give a hygienist a scare when I open my mouth. It seems another compelling reason to take care of my mouth if my own hygiene isn't enough. I'm laughing as I go down the road, laughing at the sheer ludicrousness of life, of dental hygiene, of these random thoughts floating in my head. Perhaps I'll write them down so someone can read them and think, "why does she think I give a shit?"
