Dream patient of the week

Remember that oath we took at graduation? I remember that oath. I swore, along with my classmates, that I would carry out the very best dental care to any and all patients who sat in my operatory chair; regardless of gender, race, or socioeconomic status, I promised to give everyone the best treatment I could.

I also remember wanting to hurl myself into the bathroom. The speech I had to give moments before gave me nervous diarrhea really bad.

We have our clinical side. Then we have our human side. The clinical side is a given: do what we were trained to do. My human side? A bit more personal. I tend to muse about extra-special people that I would give anything to have in my chair. Anything. Just once. And it’s because of their gender, race, SES, political ideology, etc., that I must perform my titillating hygiene duties on them.

We all have our idiosyncrasies. My OCD compels me to share mine. Hee-heeee!

Dream Patient of the Week: Steven Colbert

Mr. Colbert, if there’s any chance you accidentally enter this site while surfing the internets for plaque-disrupting inspiration, I would like you to know that I love you. Every American-y, flag-waving inch of you. I adore you. Are you tall? I like tall. You appear taller than John Stewart. I also like suits. You wear a lot of suits. I like that. And I’m not crazy. My husband tolerates me just fine. He’s just playing Skyrim again.

I love your smile. I love the way you single me out and point that finger at me when you’re in my television. I love your ties, your glasses, and your opening-credit eagle that swoops into my face and shrieks hello. That eagle looks like it’s gonna fly right into me. Here it comes–  wheeeee!  I like that eagle.

I will also state the obvious: I love your teeth.

Let me see those patriotic beauties- oh! There they are. I don’t care how much calculus is on them. I love every one of your teeth equally. If you had the blackest, most tenacious chunks of bad boy tartar stuck to every inch of enamel in your mouth, I would still love you. That’s not strange, Mr. Colbert. That’s dedication. All I ask is for the chance to have you lay waaaay back on my USA-made operatory dental chair while I give you such a stone-cold, subgingival scaling it will flip your cyclopean Super PAC, baby.

And, after I gently marinate your inflamed gums with a superfreaky course of chlorhexidine gluconate, I would like to hold your hands and teach you how to floss… properly. That’s right.

In closing, I would appreciate an opportunity to express my respect and admiration of your brain… because it’s silly. You have a silly brain.