I thought we’d start off on a happy subject. Like going to the dentist…
I am maniacally afraid of the people who poke at our gums for a living. Years of torture at the hands of two sadistic orthodontists and a vicious tool called “the bopper” left me unwilling to submit myself to the semi-annual cleaning and “you really should floss” lectures recommended by the ADA. I did enough time in that chair between the ages of five and twelve to last a lifetime.
But recently, I felt a sharp pain in one of my upper molars. Sort of like the pain I felt five years ago, the one that meant I had a big fat cavity crying out for a shot of Novocain and a long half-hour of quality time with a drill. Fraidy-cat that I am, I know that when you ignore a cavity you end up with an appointment for a root canal instead, so I called my husband’s dentist like a brave girl and told them I’d be in in a month.
Yesterday was the day. All morning I chatted with God, asking him to make this event go well – for the dentist to be in a good mood, for pleasant background music to distract me from the grinding. Right before I left I added, “You know God, if you want to just make it so I don’t have a cavity at all, that would be great too.”
I slid reluctantly into the chair and opened my mouth a half a centimeter, and the very nice Dr. Baine started to poke around. He told me to let him know when it hurt, so I grabbed the arms of the chair and prepared myself for a blinding pain to shoot through my skull. It never came. After five minutes or so, Dr. Baine rolled his chair back and asked, “This pain – is it up by your gum line?” I nodded.
He handed me a tube of Sensodyne and sent me on my way.
So my now-beloved Dr. Baine gets the very first “Trish's Dishes Highlight of My Week” award - I think I'll call it THE GOLDEN SAUCER - in the unexpected/never to be repeated category of Dental Treatment. And Yay God for the answered prayer :)