A good scourging

I can't quite figure out why I always come away from a teeth cleaning feeling like a failure.
I brush.
I floss.
I even use my little $50 Water Pik the dentist sold me the last time I was in.
So I expected some applause or at least a "Good job!" when I went in for this appointment.
But, despite the fact that I had no cavities and opened wide, I still got read the riot act.
(I swear dental hygienists take a class in guilt-tripping.)
The hygienist tut-tutted all the way through as she stabbed me in the gums repeatedly and swooshed my mouth with this bitter fluid.
She scolded me about "only flossing once a day."
Apparently that's not enough and she suggested I use this little tooth-cleaner brush that looks like a miniature toilet bowl brush to get back in the gaps.
She sold me a bottle of the nasty-tasting mouthwash that would take care of lurking bacteria with strict orders to only use it for 10 days straight and then stop for at least 10 days. (I won't have a problem stopping. It's yucky.)
She said I have to take a serious interest in my investment if I want my mouth to be healthy.
She — at least in my mind — implied that I'm a lazy good-for-nuthin who will be surprised when all my teeth fall out.
After I murmured something about being diabetic and being on an immuno-suppressant, she backed off a little.
"Oh, well, that might explain some of the bleeding from the gums," she said. "And maybe that's why your teeth still give you problems despite your efforts."
I felt a little bit vindicated especially after all the dentist could find to do after his exam was to suggest I have some back crowns redone so they would fit together better.
"That would eliminate one of your food traps," said the hygienist, frowning at my X-rays and gathering up all of the products she intended to send home with me.
"We'll see you back in  six months to see how you're doing," she added.
I know I can hardly wait.