I went to the dentist this morning and it struck me (though not literally) what an arcane experience that is.  Yes they can take x-rays without developing films and they can drill without filling your mouth with hoses, nozzles and vacuum tubes.

But this was just a cleaning and it is the least high tech thing that is done at a dentist’s office, with the possible exception of the three month old stack of magazines in the waiting room.

When the dental hygienist hygienes your dentistry she still scrapes away at your enamel with wires attached to a stick.  And I’m not sure why.  I don’t use a sharp piece of metal when I clean my teeth.  I do use a piece of string, which is another ridiculous ritual altogether.  And I have to admit I don’t really know what she’s doing.  All I can really see, after all, is what’s reflected in her glasses which means there’s a limit not only to what I can see but also to how much I care.  I hear the scraping and the occasional vacuuming but beyond that I neither know nor care what is going on.

There does come the moment when the hygienist’s assistant comes in to the cubicle and they turn a great deal of attention to my gums.  Now the sharp piece of wire is poked into my gums while the hygienist calls out numbers.  When she’s done, she asks if I know what that all means.  Since she does it twice a year and has for several years I’ve got a pretty good idea what it means.  But she asks anyway.  And I answer anyway.  I unfailingly answer “yes I do.  It means I’m twelve under par.”

She laughs, unfailing.  It’s part of the ritual.

I may be alone in this, but I don’t mind going to the dentist.  I’ve been going to this particular dentist, with a break of about six years when I moved out of town, for thirty years.  Unlike many of his patients, we haven’t talked much.  For one thing, my mouth is usually pried open and filled with his hands.  And truth be told, I don’t talk much to anyone.  Cheryl’s been going to my dentist for about six weeks and knows more about him and his entire staff than I have learned in thirty years.  There’s no real surprise in that.  Either.

Anyway, this whole dental teeth cleaning ritual thing mystifies me.  It seems primitive.  Maybe not primitive, but un-evolved perhaps.

We should be able to do better.  But at least we do what we do.  If we didn’t we’d be uncleansed, unsophisticated.  We’d be British.