Stupidity Whilst in the Dental Chair

After two years of providing me with blissful (as blissful as a trip to the dentist’s office can be, anyway), stress-free dental work, my hygienist, Dayle, left me. Actually, she moved away.

I had come to love her calm, gentle touch; the long, winding, soothing tales she told me in soft tones while she toiled. Dayle made what could have been an unpleasant experience more than tolerable; time passed swiftly and painlessly. Plus, I was mesmerized by the miner-style visor she wore sporting the bold, bright, blinding light, sitting dead center of her forehead, in order to better view my mouth’s intricacies.

Alas, my last experience was neither blissful nor stress-free. Dayle had been replaced by Sunny.

Sunny started out well enough. But slowly, I began to suspect the presence of a stuper (short, yet again, for a lamentably stupid person). In the end, her name was quite ill fitting.

She asked me questions while she worked on my wide-open mouth that I couldn’t possibly answer. These were not of the yes or no variety. I tried communicating using sign language, rapid eye movements and telepathically, but made no headway. Sunny grew impatient with me and proceeded complaining about her mother. Finally, she grew bored with that and began to hum. Loudly. Annoyingly. And in my captive ear.

Midway, the dentist came in to check on me; he pronounced that everything was fine. After he left, Sunny whispered gruffly in my ear that she disagreed.

“You need to have your wisdom teeth pulled. They’re only going to get worse. What are you waiting for?”

I nodded my head and then asked, “What days do you work again?”


Six months later, I called the dental office to schedule an appointment. Unfortunately, I had forgotten Sunny’s name. Or more likely, blocked it out. I asked who’d worked on my teeth the last time I’d been in. The receptionist informed me,

“That was Sunny. She’s really good. Everyone loves her!”

I thought that perhaps I’d been mistaken. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as I remembered. I decided to give Sunny a second chance, and made the appointment.

I called back an hour later to change the time. I spoke to a different receptionist. He too started singing Sunny’s praises. In a falsetto voice. These people were trying a bit too hard to close the deal.

“Does Sunny work on Wednesdays?”


I made my appointment on Wednesday… with Nancy.

Sunny displayed a disorderly mind. There existed no control, balance or poise when it came to revealing her thoughts. Telltale signs of stupidity. Mind training is essential if we want to live happily in this world. We can’t change the world into a better place to live, unless we ourselves change the contents of our minds.

Mind is the architect of our fate.



7 Responses to “Stupidity Whilst in the Dental Chair”

  1. Agnes Mildew says:

    Sounds a marvellous time Keli! Mr P (who hasn’t had the courage to attend a dentist for over 25 years) has finally been dragged to mine, kicking and screaming. He has to have more work done than he can imagine, and I have to take time off to hold his hand while he suffers the injections and ignominy. I am glad I looked after my teeth.

    And I enjoy being sanctimonious about it, too…

  2. Elaine says:

    Isn’t it amazing what is said to you while in the dentist chair and mouth wide open? Sometimes I think people are uncomfortable with silence so they talk to fill the silence.

    Loved this sentence: “Mind training is essential if we want to live happily in this world. We can’t change the world into a better place to live, unless we ourselves change the contents of our minds.”

  3. H says:

    “Mind is the architect of our fate.” This is a marvellous statement of truth. I will need to use this quote in my classroom.

  4. Jenny says:

    ACK! This is so true! Dental hygienists and dentists who try to converse with you while both their fists are practically rammed down your throat! So rude.

    And how wonderful a kind, gentle, patient person like Dayle, who “gets it.” I want to be more like her. Thanks for reminding me, Keli.

  5. dawn says:

    My dentist hums… no talking thank goodness 🙂

  6. Keli says:

    I always knew you were a clever girl. I wish I’d taken such care of my teeth!
    Thanks! I don’t know why they persist in asking questions a patient can so obviously not answer. Oh yeah, because they’re stupers!
    Thank you!
    Rudeness and stupidity skip along, hand in hand! I really do miss Dayle. I might just have to track her down.
    Good for you! Lucky girl!

  7. Ferd says:

    You said it! We are captives in the dental chair. That not so sunny experience must have been horrible for you, considering your extreme stuper sensitivity!

    I am fortunate to have not one, but two excellent hygienists. I am always impressed at how they can just talk and talk, in a soothing one way monologue. I wonder if they take a class for that. I think I’m impressed because I’m a guy, with innately weak talking skills. Well, anyway, I’m grateful for my hygienists.

    As always, thanks for the stuper awareness work you do, and for reminding me to think. Again, I’m a guy, with innately weak thinking skills, especially when I’m using my accessory brain. ; )

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