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Chat with Deb—Adventure at the Dentist
It was fine. No really, it was fine. I mean it, I swear, it was fine!
I had a cracked tooth on my lower right side. Had it for years. No big deal, I chewed on my left side. Never had a problem with it. Well, okay, by never I mean seldom — like every so often I chomped on something soft, which got stuck in the cracks and had to be removed by vigorous brushing, or I bit something hard, which… um, elicited a pain response, shall we say.
I’m getting older, I’m getting more forgetful, the crack in the tooth is not repairing itself for some odd reason, and I was getting more afraid that at some point I would do something that would require immediate dental attention. So after a series of unfortunate events in the search for a dentist, which I shall not detail here,¹ I showed up at the dental office with my emotional support human² in tow.
ME: They have free coffee! Why would they want to encourage coffee breath in their patients?
DEB: I’m pretty sure that’s for the folks sitting out here waiting for their patient, honey.
ME: But you’re still coming back with me, right, luv?
DEB: (squeezes my hand) You know it, Jackster!
