Off to the Dentist

 

At the time I usually publish my posts, I will be sitting in a dental chair getting my teeth cleaned.   It’s a slight trip to get there—as I still see my dentist in the town I where I grew up.  For years, I did it for I didn’t have a permanent address as my work took me all over the country.  And it was also a good excuse to see my parents afterwards.  It makes no real sense now…except I like my dentist. 

The man who poked and prodded in my mouth for my adolescence and as a young adult was a talkative bear of a man, who kept up a running patter.  Non-stop. Talking about anything and everything—and rarely anything about the state of my teeth (which are excellent, for those dying to know….)

 One of the last times I saw him he told me his son would be taking over the practice.  At my next appointment, the hygienist finished the cleaning and announced the ‘young doctor’ would come give me the final examination.  It took a moment—but then the most handsome man I could’ve conjured up came in, all smiles.   He put on his latex gloves and his fingers were in my mouth, poking and prodding as he checked for gum recession.

I have rarely had a health professional I would fuck.  In a heartbeat.  He talked, too, but he actually wanted responses to what he asked.  I have seen him mature, get married and announce the birth of his children.  He is a handsome middle-aged man now.

And I still enjoy the image of his fingers in my mouth when I close my eyes…

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The picture is taken from a protest by French dentists.  They were feeling naked without the proper PPE during Covid, so, being French, they stripped!