I sat in the dentist’s chair with my mouth propped open and the dentist’s fingers in my mouth. There was a cute girl looking no more than High School age peering at me above the mask she was wearing ready to suck out my mouth juices through a pencil-like tube. As they both talked to me as if I could answer them with more than a guttural grunt I listened to the oldies playing quietly in the background and thought back on how much things change and how much they remain the same.
The fact that I was, again, in a dentist’s chair is the same. I have always had soft teeth and a lot of cavities. My visits to the dentist barely stopped before I had to go again and start with a new round of fillings. I noticed the drill still sounded and smelled the same. The light that hung on a series of joints and arms was still the same. The tools that picked and poked, pried and pulled were still the same and, of course, the chair was still the same. You would sit staring at your feet until the dentist reclined you so you could stare into his face. So many things that remind you of the dentist were still the same.
But many things were different. The first and foremost was the presence of pain. I used to suffer through the drilling and pulling without the benefit of numbing shots or gas to ease the pain. Now I see my blood, hear the drill, see the stainless steel poker thing working in and out of my mouth and … don’t feel a thing. The whole “big lip” thing is new, you know, when you have to look in the mirror when you get home just to make sure your lip is normal size because the numbness makes it feel like it’s the size of a basketball. The music is no longer a “musak” station but now from Satellite. The rooms were no longer antiseptic white but various shades colors I can’t name. While the chair and the light are the same, I never get to lean over and “spit” into that cool little sink with the water constantly running through it any more. The dentist is covered up now. You no longer see the face when he’s working due to the mask, and safety glasses. Oh yea, and the assistants are getting much younger every time I go.
So as I sat back feeling my numbed jaw being jerked around by an unseen force I contemplated life from a dentist chair: life is good but pain isn’t; even numbness from life has a place sometimes; the colors may change but the ride stays the same; a smile shows even when your mouth is covered; and you can still communicate with three hands with tools wedged into your mouth. Isn’t life interesting?