When I went to the dentist for a checkup yesterday,
A young hygienist grabbed my arm while talking tooth decay.
She was a recent graduate of night school dentistry.
The ink was not completely dry on her brand new degree.
She introduced herself to me and put my mind at ease
With clever banter, dentist jokes and other pleasantries.
She gave me safety goggles then, and with a toothy smile,
She said, "Sit in that dentist chair, while I go pull your file."
When she returned, all robed and masked, her gown a bit bloodstained,
She then embarked upon the job for which she had been trained.
She asked me lots of questions then and took my vital signs,
And took down my life story in a dozen shorthand lines.
She asked if I was comfy, and before I could say, "No",
She tilted back that dentist chair as far as it would go.
She hooked her big forefinger then just right inside my cheek
And pulled my mouth back to my ear so she could get a peek.
I started getting nervous, but what really caught my eye
Were sutures and the bandages that she had standing by.
A stethoscope and oxygen, defibrillator, too.
I wondered what condition I'd be in when she was through.
Then with my feet above my head and no chance for release,
She filled my mouth with dental gear with savvy expertise.
I often times would take a nap while sitting in that chair,
Relaxed by gentle gum massage and music in the air.
But this time would be different; I could tell right from the start,
From all the stainless steel that she had laid out on her cart.
I offered up a sheepish grin and tried to break the ice
By mentioning her body piercings really looked quite nice.
She didn't see the humor in my witty repartee
And said she'd had enough crude comments from the likes of me.
Her smile now gone, she then took on a different attitude,
And then proceeded with her work; her energy renewed.
I cinched my seatbelt up a bit and grabbed on to that chair,
And braced for all the anguish that awaited for me there.
With hammer and a chisel she then mounted an attack,
And with two hands wedged in my mouth, she chipped away my plaque.
The chills go up and down my spine to think about it now:
The muscles bulging in her arms; sweat dripping from her brow.
And when my prayers were answered and she finished up that chore,
She fetched a pressure washer to clean up the blood and gore.
It's not uncommon that I sometime wake up in a sweat,
From dreams of that hygienist that I'd just as soon forget.
Since all the dreams I'm having now are filled with dental pain,
Before I go to bed, I take a shot of Novocain.
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