There’s just so much passing from one brain cell to another when your mouth is open for an hour or so, but you can’t say a word. Clue? Dentist appointment. Capite?
I found it strangely relaxing seeing my Colombian dentist these days. Well, not only listening to his Spanish CDs or his blinding all-white room. I keep finding myself lost in thoughts with my eyes shut and my mouth open, hands on my tummy, and one foot on the other. At ease, at peace.
I can’t say much about Dr. Julio Cesar Alzate. He can’t say much to me either. His English is as good as my Arabic. Ha! But hey, he seems to know what he’s doing to my ever so mengader tooth. Old filling, infection, dead nerves, too close to sinuses. And now, fistula. The next thing you know, root canal is on its way.
If anyone, I should be the most merajuk with my teeth. Been so fussy about taking care of ’em. But nope, naaakkkk jugak sakit, naaakkkk jugak bercavity berdecay semua. I religiously brush them twice a day for as long as I can remember. Come hell or high water, gi camping or on long flights…toothbrush has always been more important than lipstick! Cik main.
There’s one thing about my childhood naïveté or uh…stupidity I can NOT to this day understand though. I recall that I never used to like brushing my teeth before losing all my milk teeth. I even made the effort of brushing the bathroom coarse wall, just so Mom would hear some brushing sound. Aiyaiya muy tonto lah that time!
Perhaps I never had it as an enjoyable daily activity. Toothbrushing, that is. Or perhaps I never saw anybody else enjoying it. It was supposed to be made fun. And I was supposed to be taught and reminded that I was going to have pretty smiles if I kept on doing it. And kept doing it right. Too ideal eh?
In spite of everything, I believe that I do have pretty smiles. There goes the basket case again!
Questa è Enida 
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