“What do you do in your spare time?”
“Ah guh higsing.”
“What?”
“Uh, I go fishing.”
Dentists asking questions while their hands are in patients’ mouths is a well-worn trope. But this comically befuddling stereotype is as sure as a thing as being told to floss more.
“Yeah, there is great fly fishing around here. I like rainbow trout, myself.”
“Ugh hugh.”
“Spit.”
“Thanks,”
In this little Pennsylvania town, most people were aware of the local trout fishing opportunities. They knew that folks came from hundreds of miles to stalk spring creeks. Dentists, needing to be active members of the community, were no exception. All three dentist offices I visited in my years living there had, at the very least, a copy of Field & Stream in the waiting room.
“Keep up the good work. Try to make sure you floss more. Oh, and don’t bite your line with your teeth.”
Along with a $25 copay, I got a mixed bag of feedback. I brushed well enough to warrant a positive comment. Flossing that morning for the first time in the past six months obviously didn’t qualify as “regular flossing.” And apparently I was not supposed to use my mouth to clip tippet.
