I mentioned in earlier posts that I have visited the same dentist for most of my adult life. I visited one other dentist for one visit and let’s just say that ain’t happening ever again! And if it weren’t for the fact that every year since he has been my dentist I have had a cavity, or two (and there was that time I had three) he would be on my list of top ten people. He requested I not mention his name in my blog, so I won’t. But I gotta say the dentist is a charming person. I know I’ve spent more time than most chatting with him while waiting for my mouth to numb for those fillings.
My call 45 minutes before the appointment asking if I could take a shot of whiskey before I came in might have been the hint that there was some freaking out happening on my end of the experience. Hey if it worked in cowboy movies it could be a possible way to help with the freaking out. For the record there were no shots of whiskey for me.
True to form he took an icky experience and transformed it into one of those moments that made me say “oooh.” First he drilled, cut or something that required noisy tools, and resulted in a smell that still has not left my memory, the tooth in half. I would later learn that this was so the extraction would not be so traumatic. I felt no pain. Did I mention I felt no pain? None just pressure and then pop one half of my tooth fell down my shirt. Talk about awkward. In less than a minute later the other half was on the tray making a whole tooth.
And my dentist did what people who are good at their professions do best. He made me love teeth. Using my tooth as an example I got a mini anatomy and physiology lesson that was so breathtaking time actually stood still for the minute he explained using the tooth why it had to be removed. Seriously, the tone in his voice and the way he held that tooth you would have thought he was holding a piece of art from the Renaissance era. Now that I think about it, it was my tooth after all.
The other baby tooth remains until next year. Apparently it’ll take two months for the mouth to recover from this process and the next step to occur. So technically I am not a full adult. Yes! I still have more time with my Converse collection. However, the impulse to say the first thing I think has been oddly suppressed. This may also explain why I keep trying to show the broken tooth, like my first graders used to do, to whomever will stand still long enough for me to show them. Thus far I’ve had only one taker, Mr. B. And if that isn’t a sign of true love I don’t know what is.