Rinse, Spit...and Run

You've got (hate) mail.

I received this in the mail yesterday from my dentist.

Is that the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life? I mean, where exactly am I meant to display this item in my home, seeing as how I don't have a cupboard or hallway dedicated to rabies prevention?

The last time I found something this creepy in my mailbox was when my former mother-in-law put me on the mailing list for a burial-at-sea service. (Okay, I'm 95% sure it was her.)

You'd have to know the history I have with my dentist - and her assistant - to grasp the full impact of this supposed holiday mailing.

This is no routine Christmas calendar.

This is a naked act of aggression.

Let me back up a bit...

I became a patient of Dr. W about four years ago, when we moved across town and I wanted a dentist closer to our new 'hood. I got a referral from our children's dentist (mistake #1) and made an appointment.

Confession: I'm not good about getting my teeth cleaned "on schedule." I am, however, super-vigilant about taking care of my teeth. In fact, I'm flossing as I write this.

Now, however, it was time.

So I arrived at this first appointment and within 90 seconds I had the distinct impression that I was their first patient in, say, four months. The assistant - Patsy - was curled up in her basket receptionist's chair with the same expectant look on her face that my cat used to wear when I'd get home late from work and she hadn't been fed yet. Patsy, however, was hungry not for tuna but for conversation.

Even before she handed me the clipboard full of paperwork, I'd heard all about her daughter's piercings, her trick knee and her weekend plans to shampoo her carpets. My question about insurance was pushed aside while I helped her assess some paint chips for her breakfast room. (We went with "New Colonial Cacophony" from the Martha Stewart Collection, BTW.)

Now, I'm an easy-going person for the most part, plus I have what borders on a compulsion when it comes to listening to people's ramblings without interrupting. I'm just not good at cutting people off and getting out of life's social quagmires.

But something was starting to get on my nerves about Patsy: she never smiled. Never. No matter how nice or funny I was, she never - not even once - cracked a smile. And you know what else? She never blinked. I'm sorry, but I think it violates some kind of social contract to subject a person to a barrage of personal stories and anecdotes while staring at them like a department-store mannequin...unsmiling...unblinking.

Where the hell was Dr. W? I looked at the clock, expecting it to be spinning wildly backwards, as Patsy explained to me the thought process behind her choice of tires for her Corolla.
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.
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Finally, I'm in the dentist's chair.

Dr. W is perfectly nice in a tropical bird kind of way - squawky voice, beaky nose and the slightly unnerving habit of turning and dipping her head to look into my mouth with one eye...and then the other.

She begins to clean my teeth and for the first time, I understand why people hate dentists.

I have friends who, in order to get their teeth cleaned, require a Vicodin, a shot of bourbon, an eye mask and headphones delivering The Carpenters at high volume. I'm happy to say I've never had these sensitivities - I've never dreaded going to the dentist.

Until now.

By the time she was done with her little silver hook, I was soaked with sweat, my left eye was twitching uncontrollably and I had broken through the sky-blue vinyl of her chair with both heels.

I staggered back into the waiting room and as I was paying, Patsy said (without blinking or smiling), "So we'll see you in six months. Would you like to schedule your next cleaning now?"

Like hell, I thought as I ran a trembling hand through my hair.

"Um, I don't have my calendar with me, so I'll give you a call to set something up."

Patsy's unblinking eye registered my stall tactic. She knew I was a flight risk. She was up for the challenge of getting me back in that sky-blue chair for another cleaning...after a nice, long chat, of course. I'd be back - she would make sure of it.

It was on.

I lay low.

Months later, my cell phone rings. It's Patsy, calling to schedule my six-month cleaning.

"I'll have to call you back, Patsy. I don't have my calendar with me."

"Mmm-hmmm." I can feel her eye through the phone.

I make a note of the phone number and, over the next few months, dodge three more calls from Patsy.

***

Later in the year - another phone call. I don't recognize the number and pick up.

Patsy.

"You're way behind on your cleaning, Anna. You should come in."

"I would love to, Patsy, but I'm driving and I just don't have a free hand to make an appointment right now. I'll have to call you back."

"Mmm-hmmm."

I hang up and the realization washes over me that she went to the trouble of calling me on a different number.

Takin' it up a notch, I think.

***

Then, a few months after that, one of my molars starts hurting and, since I've never had tooth trouble, it kind of freaks me out. I want to get to the dentist asap so there I am - back in Dr. W's waiting room.

But, wait! That's not Patsy crouched behind the receptionist's desk! Patsy was a morbidly obese brunette while this woman is an average-sized redhead. Oh, happy day! My days of running are over!

I approach the desk and identify myself and my appointment time. The woman pulls a file from her stack, opens it and stares up at me.

"You're long overdue for your cleaning, Anna."

"Well, yes, but I'm just here for this molar..." I point into my mouth to illustrate.

"Haven't you gotten my messages...?" The receptionist stares at me. Unblinking. Unsmiling.

"Wha- I don't understand..."

"You don't recognize me."

"Of course I do!" [nervous laughter]

"I got my stomach stapled. I've lost 170 pounds."

"Well...awesome...P-Patsy...?" I look around the room for back-up but it is, of course, empty. "You look great!"

"I look really different, huh?"

"Well, sure, I mean with the new perm and all, you look--"

"You can go in now," she says. "And you're in luck - she has time to do your cleaning while you're here. She had a cancellation." I do a double-take to peer at the closest thing I've ever seen to a smile on Patsy's unrecognizable face.

Oh, I bet she did, I think as I stomp in and throw myself into the sky-blue chair.

That's so not fair, I think. I thrash around on the chair like a salmon on the deck of a fishing boat as Dr. W attacks my gums with her tiny silver hook. I refuse to feel like the heavy (dammit!) I mean bad guy for not recognizing Patsy now that she's dropped all that weight. I mean, come on - I can't be held responsible when someone goes from Tiny Tim to Carrot Top without giving me a heads-up.

When I bolt back out to the waiting room, New Patsy is waiting for me.

"Six months from now, then?"

"Well, I don't-"

"I know - you don't have your calendar with you."

"Right," I say and wonder how she keeps her eyes from drying up and falling out of her head.

"You know." She pauses dramatically. "I'll get you back in here."

"We." I pause in retaliation. "Will see about that."

I pretty much prevail.

So that was almost a year ago and I'm proud to say I have not set foot back in Dr. W's office since, which I think goes to show that no matter how many threatening holiday calendars arrive in the mail, Anna Lefler will not be pushed around by a dental receptionist, even one who happens to be a master of disguise.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to my post at the front window. Do me a favor and if on your way out you see a Corolla with relatively new tires circling the block shoot me a hand signal or something, okay?


Le Group Hug

I was thrilled yesterday to discover that Marinka of Motherhood in NYC had recommended that her readers check out my previous post here (the one about being cursed). Wow! Marinka is one of the funniest and most clever bloggers around and I read her regularly (I'm also a tiny bit afraid of her), so you can imagine how tickled I was to receive this shout-out. (I've actually become impossible to live with - just ask my husband.) Her blog is definitely worth adding to your daily tour - you won't be disappointed. Thanks, Marinka!

Big thanks also to La Belette Rouge for the Superior Scribbler Award! This blog is another favorite - literate, authentic and always entertaining. Incoming air kisses! Mwah! Mwah!

Hefty thank-you shout-outs as well to:

Muse Swings for the Blog in Bloom Award
Mandy at Adventures of a Millennium Mom for the I Love Your Blog Award
Annie at A Nice Place in the Sun for the Quiz Whiz Award
The Wife of Riley for the Pay It Forward Prize
Maggie at Life with Boys for the Butterfly Award

My goodness! These beautiful awards can be seen over in the right-hand column... Just click on them to take you to their wonderful, funny blogs... Thanks so much!