Shouting Into the Void
I have not published a blog in a long time. And when it comes down to it, my blog posts have been very few. This was because I had it in my head that I needed to be witty, or funny, or informative in order to follower in the footsteps of other bloggers and write something that others wanted to actually read. Like those blogs that teach you things, or help inspire you to live a better life, or are expertly written to provide its followers with a plethora of information they would not have received otherwise.
I am not an expert…on anything. Neither am I particularly witty, funny, or intelligent (I’m not stupid, but I am rather average. Nothing special there), I just happen to like words and the sound of my own voice. So instead of waiting for some kind of theme to thread its way through my posts, I’ve decided to go on without one. This will now become my platform to yell into the void, to shout at the universe all the words jumbling about inside my head. Take it or leave it, but this is what it has to be. I am a writer and I just want to write. Follow me or don’t follow me, I will continue my cries!
Which leaves me with nothing. Nothing except my visit to the dentist this morning.
Ah! And that’s when you all leave. Because who wants to hear about anyone’s visit to the dentist? No one!
And therein lies my point. Why would you want to be a dentist??? Actually, I can somewhat get being a dentist with the DR in front of your name and the wealth and status that goes along with it. But for the love of god, why would you want to clean teeth for a living?
I am not criticizing dental hygienists at all, hell, I applaud them. They are willing to go into the deep, dark recesses of my mouth. Something I don’t even want to do! And I consider myself to have a rather clean, unproblematic set of teeth. But I’m guessing I’m the good patient, the one who is relatively healthy and hygienic. But they also clean the teeth of smokers, chewers (is that what they’re called?), drinkers, the old, the young, the rotten and the sick. They go where no man should have gone before, or ever go. And they do it day after day, scraping off all the hardened plaque and encrusted grime, polishing what remains, then flossing out said polish and applying fluoride, only to remove it and the stingy lines of drool that accompany those blue plastic teeth trays. I mean, the amount of spit they deal with in a day is more than I would want to deal with my entire life.
Why, why, why?
I could never do that. And that is what I thought about while laying back in the chair with my super cool safety glasses to block out the light while my head jerked and pulled with each tug of the dental floss. Why does the thought of being a hygienist make me physically ill?
It came down to one major thing. Not that it was gross. Not that I couldn’t handle spit or drool or bad breath (although, I wouldn’t want to). I hate touching people. Plain and simple. The hygienist’s hands were up inside my mouth and on my face pretty steady for an hour. You have got to be one awesome person to willingly touch anyone who makes an appointment and walks through the door. And to get all in there without any shudder of revulsion. That is pretty damn heroic.
I work in a tiny office with my door closed and don’t see anyone from the time I block myself in there until the time I get out. My only interaction is a few smiles and chitchat while I get out to go pee or make some tea, and this because I rent an office space at a studio. (I do this because the treehouse that I live in is far too small for any kind of desk area.) If I had an office at home, I’d never interact with other human beings. My days would be spent in pyjamas, wandering about my house, talking to myself and then transcribing those imaginary conversations into a word document in a desperate attempt to quiet the voices in my head.
That depressing picture is so much more appealing to me than having to spend my day inside other people’s mouths. Or in the vicinity of their faces and their skin and, just…them. Which has made me realize that the world is a better place because of dental hygienists. Actually, for anyone who is willing to touch another human under the guise of making them healthier. Because if the world were full of people like me we’d all die from something stupid like an ingrown toenail or an abscessed tooth, not able to find anyone willing to help us out. Sure, we’d live free from communicable diseases, but we’d most likely disappear into our own cesspool of filth and rashes.
So today I yell into the void a grateful chorus for dental hygienists (and other touchy-feely professions) everywhere! I can’t fathom what possessed you to pursue that career, but us recluses applaud you for doing so!