Dental Advances

Today was another dentist day and, per the norm, I spent a great deal of time waiting.

The great thing about going to a student dentist (the other great thing, not the contributing to her or his education part) is you get plenty of time between the most amazing treatments to ponder the universe and watch him or her fill out things on her or his computer. He spends a lot of time filling out forms and doing the menial work that I just know every practicing dentist hands off to underlings.

I went in because of a loose tooth (#26) and am getting new bridgework. I have a partial now, which I got with insurance money and maybe two visits. This time the procedure is punctuated by the necessity of the advising doctors to check on my student's progress, and since there must be close to twenty students working in the dental equivalent of a cubicle farm, this can take some time.

Earlier I've had the bottom of my tongue checked, my skin checked, my ears examined, and my nerves tested. My real nerves, not the metaphorical ones. Now that the casts of my mouth are complete, plastic and wax bridgework needs to be tested for fit, comfort, and utility. That's what happened today, but this goes far beyond what I'd expected, which was putting it in, having it looked at, shaved, re-inserted, and the like.

While that did happen, when the advising doctor came around things skyrocketed. I was asked, repeatedly, to count from sixty to seventy by ones, and I learned that pronouncing the letter Es is somehow useful for checking some labial thing or other. Since the key number for the students to pay attention to (sixty-six) contains two Esses, one after the other, I glibly recited the line about the girl at the seashore and her sea shells.

That sparked them to greater tests.
"Say 'sixty-six,'" the doctor said, and I obliged.
"Seventy-seven," and, again, I repeated.
"Sunset Strip" and I said that, too, snapping my fingers twice when I was done.
"Sing the song," he instructed, and I did, the first line.
The doctor then took a moment to explain to the students that they were too young to understand and instructed them to "check with their parent."

When the doctor departed to embarrass other patients and students, my student lined one of those wooden sticks along my nose and began making marks where I think my lips and chin were. Some VDO thing, which I tried for the next hour to decode. When that was over and I began relaxing, I was caught by surprise when my student pulled out and stuck in my ears what can only be described as a huge caliper. This fastened at the front, but I had to hold it in place while a plate was put in my mouth and clenched between my teeth.

The plate had rods which could be attached to the caliper and as my student tightened everything in place I began panicking, though not that he could see. It made me think of iron masks, of iron maidens, of Clockwork Orange, and it hurt more than it should. I learned that it's not fun to have things squeezing in your ears that are fastened to a thing in your mouth that is held rigid by thumbscrews.

When that was done we went over my medical history for the third or fourth time, and I ventured the guess that when my student graduated he would never see that apparatus again. I knew I hadn't, and I've been going to dentists for years.

I did learn, though, the important fact that the distance from one ear canal to the other looks to be 160mm.