That Ol' Flouride Goo

“Everything looks OK,” are the magic words you want to hear from your dentist. Going to the dentist is something like going to an auto mechanic, since both of them have a knack for finding expensive things to do. Today I dodged that bullet. Everything was OK. She scraped and buffed my choppers and grinders, and then applied a new sort of fluoride treatment—new to me, anyway, a full-mouth bite down on a horseshoe-shaped tray of fluoridy goo.

I’d never done anything like that since, I think, my orthodontist made a cast of my uppers and lowers many moons ago, and that was plaster of Paris. In today’s exercise, I kept my mouth closed on the goo for a few minutes, not the most pleasant way to spend your time. But no worst than scraping and buffing. I’ve never had a fear of dentists, but visiting one has never been top of the list on amazingly warm spring days like today.