I hate going to the dentist. I've always hated going to the dentist. Why? Well, it's quite simple really. Even after all this time and all the technological advances of medicine, dentists still diagnose you by sticking a metal hook in your mouth and poking around until - OUCH - something hurts. They ask, "Oh, did that hurt?" They poke one more time to confirm the location, and force you to schedule a follow-up for drilling and filling. I hate the dentist.

So, as I'm sure you've guessed, I'm not the every-six-month-cleaning-appointment kind of person. And I haven't had the same dentist for more than one visit since I was a kid living at home. Everyone I see disappoints me. At my last visit, the doctor did the usual poking for pain, and then, when I went back for the required drill n' fill, he assured me that I didn't need novocaine. Don't worry, he said. It won't be that painful at all. Needless to say, I ignored their little postcard reminding me to come back for a cleaning.

Fortunately, I have pretty good teeth. I've gotten away with the occasional visit every two or three years, and my loathing of the dentist, combined with my decent dental history, keeps me from going any more often than I have to. Felix, if you can believe it, is even worse than I am. He hadn't been to the dentist in six or so years - too long ago for him to even remember, really. So I made us appointments last week to get a cleaning and check-up. As usual, I picked someone new. This guy was highly recommended by one of Felix's co-workers and is named Dr. Comfort. That's a good omen, right?

We arrived at his office and stood gawking in the doorway. The waiting room was dimly lit by candlelight. There were big squooshy sofas to sit in, and Enya was playing in the background. I was speechless. Before my appointment, the assistant took me to dip my hands in a hot wax bath and then wrapped my hands in plastic - it's supposed to leave your skin feeling silky smooth. The dental chairs were also equipped with massage rollers, like those chairs you sit in at Sharper Image. Yes, I know the whole thing sounds absurd, but I am telling the absolute truth. No exaggeration, I swear. Ask Felix, if you don't believe me. In fact, the whole time I was there, I was thinking...am I at the dentist's?!

And that turned out to be the key question. Between the two of us, our appointment lasted over three hours and cost $574.00. Dr. Comfort's philosophy is to make the patient prepay for services. Then, the office will file the insurance paperwork to get whatever reimbursement we're owed mailed to us directly. We also had to make three follow-up appointments - two for Felix (he's in big big trouble) and one for me (the usual drill n' fill). That night, I had a crazy dream. I dreamed that I had a drag-out-kicking-screaming fight with Dr. Comfort, demanding our money back, copies of our dental records, and originals of our x-rays (we each had EIGHTEEN x-rays taken!!! felt like our brains were being destroyed!!!). I even took him to court, which was a weird combination of Law & Order and The Practice. Very strange.

Anyway, after I woke up, I realized what my problem was. The candles, the music, the name - I know it was all meant to put me at ease, to overcome my fears of pain and dentistry. But I didn't feel like I'd been to see a real dentist! I felt defrauded, cheated somehow. Real doctors are serious. They have no-nonsense waiting rooms and offer excellent medical advice. Visiting Dr. Comfort felt like visiting Jiffy Lube. I'm always suspicious that they're just trying to make me buy a new air filter or get my transmission cleaned out so they can grab the extra buck, not because my car needs the work. I didn't feel like I could believe a single thing Dr. Comfort said to me. Did I really need to get fitted for and purchase a bite guard? Did I really need restoration work? Why did he take EIGHTEEN x-rays and then only look at them for three seconds? Why should he care? We have to prepay him anyway, so he always gets his money whether or not the insurance company decides to reimburse us. The more I thought about it, the more incensed I felt. I postponed my follow-up this week to the week after, to give me more time to stew over my dental needs. I also announced to Felix that after the necessary dental work is finished, we are not going back to see this quack. And when we move on, I am going to demand that our records and x-rays be turned over to take with us. I only hope I don't sock him, like I did in my dream.

So, I still hate going to the dentist. Sigh. There is one positive note, though. That night, after having had our teeth cleaned, Felix came to bed all cheery and amazed. He told me that he had actually felt water swishing between his teeth when he was brushing, a feeling that he'd totally forgotten about. Scary. So, despite my disgust with Dr. Comfort, at least he gave my honey really clean teeth.