| 03.16.05
• THE DAILY GRIND
I’m just not a fan of dentists. Now, I don’t have
anything against them personally, and I’m not a virulent
“anti-dentite” (in the words of Cosmo Kramer), but
I must say that I don’t greatly enjoy being in their presence
in a patient/dentist situation.
Maybe it’s because my gums recoil in horror from the sharp
metal hook they like to prod them with, and then they innocently
ask if I’m brushing too hard. Maybe it’s because
that old school dentist drill sends chills up and down my spine
like a nail file or fingers on the chalkboard times 100.
On my most recent trip to the dentist, the dental hygienist
finished cleaning my bicuspids, and then, with a smile on her
lips, asked if I had been grinding my teeth.
“Huh?”
Grinding my teeth? I had never even thought about this before.
Of course, now that this perky dental practitioner had planted
the horrible thought in my head, I could do nothing but think
about grinding my teeth. In the mornings, I would wake up and
wonder if my jaw was sore, and then spend the next few hours
wondering whether or not I was simply imagining it. During the
day, I would catch myself chomping my uppers on my lowers, and
then ease the pressure in a guilty quick-release movement.
Ever notice how when someone mentions something out of the ordinary,
like, I don’t know, gophers, all you can see from then
on are gophers. You look out the window and see gophers. You
pick up a magazine and read the latest article on gophers. You
turn on the television and Animal Planet is running a gopher
marathon. You get the idea.
Well, now that this freakin’ dental hygienist had mentioned
it, I had become obsessed with teeth grinding and whether or
not I was doing it.
Ignorance is bliss, but since I had seen the light, it was time
to learn more.
Bruxism is the technical term for grinding one’s teeth.
Sounds a bit more insidious and highly contagious than it really
is. Treatments include reducing stress and wearing a mouth guard
at night. There’s nothing sexier than kissing the wife
goodnight and slipping in a mouth guard to protect my teeth
from my teeth.
So this leaves me in a bit of a quandary. The problem persists,
but I still question what caused it in the first place. Did
I grind my teeth unknowingly? Or did I start grinding my teeth
when the thought was planted in my head? Or am I just an incredibly
panicky dental hypochondriac?
One thing’s for sure. I completely and utterly blame dental
hygienists and those that employee them. Because if life has
taught me anything, it’s that this couldn’t possibly
be my fault. With that in mind, I suppose it’s time to
just grin and bear (down on) it. |