accidental sadist

I'm not afraid of dentists.

I get my teeth cleaned every six months without a shred of trepidation.

And I certainly don't expect a dentist to be gentle; their tools of cleaning are a small mirror and a sharp stainless steel spike. On the other hand, I also don't expect them to treat my gums like a pin cushion.

I'm not being entirely fair – it's not a dentist who actually cleans my teeth. He only comes in afterwards to check for cavities, monitor the state of my teeth, and chat about the local weather. I like my dentist.

The actual teeth cleaning is done by a dental hygienist; there is almost always a new one there each time I visit – I've never had the same one more then twice.

In my head, I imagine them as roving gypsies, nomads, moving from place to place, never lingering too long in one town. In truth, I have no idea. I'm sure many dentists have a stable group of hygienists.

Just not mine. 

Most of them are good people. But the one I had yesterday was pure evil – and not the deliciously kinky kind. I should have known something was up when she began the procedure sitting down (unlike every single other hygienist I'd ever had before). Working from this position, she couldn't access various parts of my mouth without extensive facial contortions that left me wondering whether nose cartilage is meant to be that malleable.

And that was simply the beginning.

She attacked my gums with a vengeance, spending more time scraping my gums than my teeth. It got to the point that each time she would clean up the excess blood with a gauze or the suction tool, the only thought I had was, 'She's hiding the evidence.'

The worst part is that she can't be considered a sadist. She wasn't intentionally inflicting pain.

She was simply being careless.

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