I had to go for my semi-annual dental check-up last Saturday. Most of the time I deal with this as I would any other torturous event in my life I can’t avoid – I make jokes about it to my wife. She knows I have fractured and sliced numerous parts on my body during work or sports, wrapped them up and went back to work without a doctor’s visit or taking a day off (I went to the doctor’s office for the first time in seventeen years last summer for an overdue tetanus shot). She needles me because the dentist represents the only human being on earth who can induce anxiety in me. I issue these tidbits of information only because it sets up how already unhappy I am at making these twice a year sojourns into personal angst. My dentist is a good man I’ve had a respectful relationship with for two decades. He surprised me a couple weeks back by having his receptionist call and reschedule my cleaning which has never happened. No big deal, I think.
I arrive early as always. The very nice receptionist seats me in an exam room. I then hear my dentist outside the room tying up loose ends with a previous patient before sticking his head in to greet me.
“Hi, I’ll be right with you, Bernie.”
‘No problem, Doc, I’m early.”
Then I hear him coughing – one of those dry coughs all of us experience sometimes because of the treated air inside buildings. Worst case, I’m thinking maybe he has a cold, or he’s getting over one, or he has the swine flu. He comes in with my file, mask in place, looking for some reason to take x-rays which he always finds. Donning exam gloves, my dentist coughs onto his gloved hands periodically while inserting x-ray plates in my mouth on both sides. During this time we exchange pleasantries about family while I can still talk and he clucks over my old fillings starting to show cracks (they’ve been showing cracks for a decade). I politely tell him once again I’ll notify him immediately of any change or if I’m having trouble. Then he slips the bombshell on me.
“I’m sorry about postponing your cleaning from last week… (pause to cough)… excuse me. I was in Africa attending a conference.”
Oh boy, there’s some good news. I feel like Stephen King’s characters sitting at the gas station just before the car driven by a dying driver infected with viral death hurtles into the gas pump at the beginning of ‘The Stand’. My silence stretched out like a dead python between us. He went on after a moment about his adventure, pausing to cough on a periodic basis while setting up his cleaning equipment. I’m of course sitting there wondering how long I’ve got before the Eboli bacteria starts giving me his dry hacking cough. The Doc finishes setting up and launches into my cleaning, complete with coughing pauses while politely holding a hand up to his masked mouth before plunging it again into mine. I emerged from the dentist’s office with a new perspective on fears pertaining to my teeth. :)
12 comments:
I would've freaked, then asked him if he was sick before he went to the conference. That whole scene would've sent me into Monk mode. *ggg*
My first impulse was to jump out of the chair, Jordan. Then I decided to pray I was immune like Stu Redmond in 'The Stand'. It would have probably been better if I had done a 'Monk' on him and run. So far, I'm Stu Redmond. :)
Very Interesting post. I felt like I was there in the waiting room with you. I wonder what goes on inside a persons head, even one with an MD after their names when they don't consider that being sick and staying home might be in the best interests of their patients. I am sure he had no bad intentions, but that is not helpful if you end up sick as a result. Your story reminded me of an experience that I had recently and many years ago. The one many years ago happened when I took my at&t truck to salinas for a truck shell. When I got to the place the receptionist was sniffling and blowing her nose. Obviously very sick. I later made the mistake of using the same phone that she had used and as a result came down with one memorable bout of the flu.
The other day while attending class I sat down next to one of my cohorts who was pretty much in the same condition. I politely excused myself and moved to another part of the room, explaining that as much as I would prefer not to I had to move because I didn't feel like catching what she had. A couple of sessions later after she returned from missing subsequent classes she told me that she understood how I felt. A succes story that worked. I didn't get sick and she understood why I moved...
Funny the chains that hold us in such situations - like "I'll just get through this so I won't need another appointment for a while."
He really didn't have bad intentions, John, and it could have been just a dry throat. When he decided to tell me about the Africa trip, it caused anxiety rather than interest. :)
I don't blame you. If someone sneezes, I back away from them like the Ghostbusters in the elevator when Ray lights off the nuclear accelerator for the first time. :)
That's right, Bernita. I'm sitting there thinking I can't just walk out, when probably that's exactly what I should have done. The hangup was he'd already done me with the x-ray plates. :)
Oh joy. I would have the same fears as you. something exotic. I won't mention the things that occur to me. You don't need any help in the imagination dept.
Four days later, and still holding my own against the contagion, Charles. You're right, Eboli wasn't the only thing creeping through my head at the time. :)
Yikes.
What in the world was he thinking?!
He was thinking I'm sure everyone will be thrilled hearing about my Africa trip while I'm having coughing jags every few minutes, Raine. He was mistaken. :)))
I don't know what to do, to laugh or to cry... :-)
Hopefully you're still fine, Bernard! :-)
It's best to always laugh at these incidents. I believe I've made it past the incubation period, Vesper. :) Thank you.
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