It was an extremely long time to go without peanut butter, gum, or biting into an apple. Though, to be fair, I still can't bite into an apple because I have a perminate retainer glued to my lower teeth.
My dentist was the husband. My orthodontist was the wife. And my oral surgeon was their best friend. They all knew me by name, to the point that they would ask how the dogs and cats were doing and if I liked my newest hair color/style better than the last one.
At one point, they were all trying to get me on their team to play pranks on the other two.
Granted, I didn't enjoy having my wisdom teeth surgically removed, my incisors cut open to cut the tendons, my teeth being yanked out because I have a tiny mouth, or my braces being tightened every six to eight weeks...
But I really did get to know them and I can actually say, since moving, that I miss seeing them on the visits.
I saw them through two kids, a new partnership, moving twice with the second time being a brand new building that they built from the ground up, and a whole bunch of stuff in my life.
Not many people are lucky enough to have a situation like I did and without them, those two and a half years would have been hell considering the fact that I was terrified of dentists before I moved to Alabama.