There's no reason to say that I don't particularly enjoy going to the dentist. No one enjoys going to the dentist--including, I suspect, dentists and their families. However, I have to make a confession: I don't hate going to the dentist as much as I used to.
Have I succumbed to oral masochism? Nah--it's just that, somehow, I've come to realize that while there are parts of dental work that I really don't enjoy, overall it's nowhere nearly as bad as I had convinced myself that it was. I don't know if dental procedures have just improved since my visits to Dr. Cromartie in the early 1960s (I would walk to the dentist and reward myself after the visit by walking to the nearby bakery and buying brownies... somehow it seems self-defeating in retrospect). A couple of years ago, I picked a nearby dental office and made up my mind to go regularly; imagine my surprise when I walked in and discovered that the dentist I had chosen was (drum roll, please...) one of my comic shop regulars!
Doc Sturn (Dr. Ian Sturn, to be precise) is a superlative dentist--amiable, meticulous, concerned, informative, helpful... and best of all, he knows how to give me that inevitable shot of novocaine without rendering my jaw sore for the rest of the day.
By the way, this is probably a good time to mention that I have horrible dental problems, some inherited and some related to a medical side-effect that causes some calcium loss, rendering my teeth more succeptible to breakage and other damage. So I spend more time undergoing dental work that most folks. Susan, for example, has great teeth, so she hardly ever has to have anything more than a routine cleaning. Me... it's rare for a six-month checkup to pass without the discovery of at least one problem that needs further attention. *sigh*
Tomorrow, I have to see Doc Sturn again--not for any major work, but to have a new dental impression made for a permanent crown. Seems the lab somehow did something wonky with the old impression and isn't confident they can properly fit the crown now--so I get to experience that uncomfortable fifteen minutes with rubbery goop in my mouth. Not what I'd choose to kick off a Saturday morning, but it could be a lot worse...
At least I'll have a chance to ask him if he finished Infinite Crisis #4 yet--and if he did, I can find out if he was impressed with it as I was. See, you can have fun at the dentist's office!
(If you're keeping count, my cardiologist, my dentist, my accountant, and one of my bankers are regular customers at Dr. No's. Don't know how I ended up so lucky, but I like this system!...)