Say Ahhhh

My dentist hums. This is a problem. Let me explain.

For a variety of reasons that are neither interesting nor pertinent to the story at hand, I went several years without visiting a dentist. When I finally made an appointment for a thorough exam last August, I knew I’d have some cavities. The dentist came in, we chatted, I admitted I’d been lax with the floss (but very good with the brushing!) and he took a full set of x-rays.

“I’ll just take a minute to look these over,” Dr. Z said, and scooted away on his rolling chair.

He spread the x-rays out in front of him, then picked one up and looked at it. After a few seconds, he grabbed a pencil and made some sort of mark. I guess he found a cavity. I kept watching. He moved on to the next x-ray and made another pencil mark. Another one, huh? He kept going. X-ray, pencil mark, x-ray, pencil mark, again and again and again! Maybe he’s keeping track of the teeth he’s looked at?

After about 10 minutes, Dr. Z spun around and asked, “Do you eat a lot of hard candy?”

“No.”

“Mints, lollipops, Altoids?”

“No, never.”

“Do you suck on cough drops?”

“Can’t stand ‘em. Why?”

“Because you have 22 cavities, and they’re all at the gum line. That’s pretty rare.”

Can dentists reject patients? Do people get dentures at 30? How much is a pint of blood going for these days? It’s amazing the types of thoughts a sudden rush of shame can trigger. Realizing that Dr. Z hadn’t called security to escort me from the office, and that dentures are pretty expensive, I took a deep breath and asked, “So, how many appointments do you think I’ll need?”

“Seven. Eight. Maybe more. You should make three to start with, and then we’ll see.”

So I have been visiting Dr. Z a few times a month. He’s a very nice man, and his staff is very friendly and kind. The hygienist always has a tissue ready for when I inevitably try to spit and wind up with a gob of drool on my chin. There are always stacks of Us Weekly and OK Magazine, so the gossip is good. And the music selection is pretty descent – adult contemporary, but generally of this decade. And yet, here’s where the problem lies. Because, like I said, my dentist hums.

The first time it happened, Dr. Z was holding the UV light thingy to a filling, setting it or baking it or whatever. I just know that I have to keep my eyes closed when I hear it beeping. The song If You Leave (from The Breakfast Club) came on. And Dr. Z started humming along.

Either he didn’t know the words, or his personal sense of decorum wouldn’t allow actual singing. Instead, his rendition went something like, “duh nuh nuh, huh nuh nuh, duh duh dun nuh nuh-nuh-nuh.” He was rockin’ out, as much as a dentist can rock out while humming along to an 80’s classic by a group called Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.

I was so shocked I nearly burst out laughing. Unfortunately, I had a bunch of sharp metal things in my mouth, and one possibly blinding UV light thingy. So I couldn’t laugh. I held it in. After several seconds, Dr. Z stopped. Whew.

Then he started up again.

This went on for three minutes. Every time he would start humming, I would totter on the edge of hysterics, terrified that one chuckle would leave me with half a tongue or a throat full of gauze. Then he would stop, and just as I’d started to regain my composure, he’d be at it again.

When I left the office, I spent a good five minutes sitting in my car, laughing until tears rolled down my face. Every visit since, there’s always one song, and only one, that sets Dr. Z a-hummin. At this point, the anticipation of the humming is almost worse than the humming itself. With every song change, there’s a split second to wonder is this the one? And every time, I fight desperately to avoid laughing.

So far I’ve been successful, but I have three cavities to go.