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May 13, 2011

My dentist, Dr. Isaakson, was not happy with me, as I arrived today two and a half years late for the two cavities I was supposed to have filled.  I tried to explain that it is very hard to come to the dentist as it is something I really dread doing and that is why it took me two and a half years to schedule the follow-up appointment.  His response: “It’s not that hard to go to the dentist. I have to do it everyday. How do you think that feels!”  He has a point.

To his credit, I didn’t feel a thing.  He did have to ask his assistant to bring extra Novocaine muttering that people with intense personalities sometimes require more Novocaine.  I do not know what he is talking about.

I always leave Dr. Isaakson feeling like I’ve been given a second chance at life, like that cavity would’ve probably killed me if I had waited one more day.  And as I hand over hundreds of dollars I feel this I-dodged-a-bullet exhilaration.  What is a few hundred dollars compared to my life and the life of the teeth that I love?  Are young dentists taught to look distraught yea even panicky as they examine your mouth?  The subsequent relief when the dentist then saves you from oral calamity results in a sort of trauma bond.  I would never leave Dr. Isaakson after what he has done for me and my teeth.  Never.

Speaking of mouths and things…During nap time today I went into Charlie’s room to investigate a low humming noise.

Me: “Why are you making that noise?”

Charlie: “I was just mowing my bed with my tongue.”

One Comment leave one →
  1. Beth Saavedra permalink
    May 13, 2011 11:20 pm

    Great post! Charlie is a stitch.

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