I don’t know about you, but I hate going to the dentist for my routine cleaning. After checking in at the front desk, I sit in the waiting area for a brief time before the hygienist calls my name, followed by a cheerful “How are you doing today?” as we walk toward the hygienist’s cubicle. I remark how much I don’t like being there.

I begrudgingly sit in the dental chair. We continue a brief conversation as the blue paper bib is attached around my neck with a silver chain and clip. Then the chair is tilted to the hygienist’s liking. After a quick look at my current X-rays, the conversation stops as I open my mouth. The pointed scraping tool begins scraping away at my teeth, removing any tartar buildup. I’ve already started to clench my fists, quietly venting how much I don’t want to be here.

The hygienist might continue to talk to me, but the only way I can respond is to utter “hmm” or “ah-ha” sounds. It seems like more time is spent on my front lower teeth than anywhere else. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Will I have any bottom teeth left after this? I have this fear of looking in the mirror and seeing these poor teeth made into toothpicks.

The ultrasound tartar removal implement is turned on and the suction tube is placed in my mouth to catch the water from it. The suction tube works somewhat, but water still seeps down my throat. Sometimes I have to signal the hygienist with my hand to adjust the suction tube or I might move it myself to achieve some kind of comfort until this process is done.

Once I’ve recovered from the ultrasound procedure, I’m able to close my mouth and move my jaw back and forth while the hygienist gets the tiny little cup of polish open to polish my teeth.

“Don’t use chocolate cookie or bubble gum flavor,” I said. “I only want mint flavor.”

Back to an open mouth, the suction tube and water now seep down my throat with the essence of mint. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Suction. Suction. Suction. Then a pause to swish my mouth around with some water to get the grainy residue out of my mouth. The only good thing about the suction tube is that it keeps me from drowning. When this process is finally over, I relax my clenched fists. But, I’m not quite done yet.

There’s clicking sounds as the hygienist flosses each tooth, one side and then the other. The cleaning is finished. I breathe a sigh of relief. The dentist’s exam is next. My mouth opens again as the dentist travels around my mouth with the little round mirror, followed by the metal tool poking at any suspected or overlooked tooth that might present a problem.

“Well, looks good,” said the dentist.

Yay! No cavities!

I stop by the desk to make my next appointment and walk to my car feeling my smooth, clean polished teeth with my tongue. I relish it for as long as I can until my growling stomach insists that I need to eat something. Then the tartar buildup begins again.

Sue Curran is a San Rafael resident. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.