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Blood, Spit, and Plaque

Most of the worst jobs involve other people’s bodily fluids. Bathroom attendants, porta-potty servicers, amusement park vomit janitors, urinalysis technicians, prostitutes, Bikram yoga teachers who must touch sweaty body parts to make adjustments, facial tissue testers, bathroom tissue testers, animal inseminators…. you couldn’t pay me enough. Unless you were paying me six figures and giving me frequent wine breaks. But why would you do that? There’s a recession going on.

I thought about all the horrible jobs involving bodily fluids during my semi-annual teeth-cleaning at the dentist, as the hygienist violently scaled and planed my teeth with a sharp metal pick. “Your gums look fabulous,” she told me, and I tried to look modest — a hard emotion to convey with a wide-open mouth.

“But right here, near these two teeth, you have a significant plaque build-up,” she explained, digging away. “I think it’s because these teeth are misaligned, so a pocket of plaque formed that flossing just can’t get to it. Let me show you.”

She lowered the mirror attached to the overhead light, and to my infinite horror, my mouth was completely bathed in blood, which gushed from the plaque pocket like a Gulf Cost oil leak. Mr. Thirsty sucked away at the pool of spit and blood that formed under my tongue as the hygienist showed me how loosely connected the gums were to these two teeth. Then, she proceeded to gut them… without raising the mirror. Fascinated, I watched as she scooped away at the inflamed, bloody gums without hesitation or loathing.

I had a new respect for this woman and her profession. Here is this middle-mannered, forty-something woman, one minute inquiring about my summer vacation plans, the next minute disemboweling my mouth… all in the name of dental hygiene.

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