Before last Thursday, I hadn't been to the dentist in . . . actually I've got no idea. Ten years? Maybe more.
It was definitely time to go. Brushing my teeth was only going so far and I had the constant uncomfortable sensation that my breath was knocking people out.
I had to wait for a few weeks, what with dentists being in such high demand (apparently), so by the time it rolled around I was in the odd position of looking forward to it.
As dentist experiences go it was probably less traumatic than most. The water-jet clean was painful but comprehensive. The oddly abrasive yet gentle clean (using powder not paste) was . . . abrasive.
No major work is required. I just need to go back in January for a small filling.
The other thing making it less traumatic was the selection of Three Stooges stills on the ceiling. Right above the chair. To distract the patient, presumably.
The selection of stills was a little odd, though. Particularly this one:
It wasn't quite that bad. Almost. But not quite.