Day 217: The tooth hurts

Peace bro'.
Peace bro'.

I hate going to the dentist. (Just thought I’d throw that out there.)

It’s more of a phobia, really. And what does that have to do with good deeds, you ask?

My dentist of many years just retired, so it was doubly scary going to his replacement (and new hygienist) for the first time ever today.

The whole experience turned out to be a real test of my consideration for others, let me tell you. The very nature of a phobia turns your attention inwards — every fibre of your being is laser-focused on your own fear. That makes it tricky, if not impossible, to give others one iota of your interest.

On previous visits, I have rarely, if ever, chatted with the staff. How could I? Their voices were drowned out by the deafening sound of my own heart beating out of my chest.

Strange thing was, forcing myself to think about what the dentist has to deal with — namely a patient who flinches every time he picks up an instrument — actually helped me relax … a little.

But after I was finally, mercifully, done, I made an extra effort to talk to them and thanked them both for explaining the new procedures so carefully, even though all I wanted to do was run out screaming.

Then, in my haste to squeal out of the parking lot, I ended up blocking two other cars. But I took a deep breath, recited the good deed oath (actually, there is no good deed oath, but there should be, shouldn’t there?), returned to my spot and waited till the other cars drove out first.

I have to go back in two weeks for a filling, so I’ll see if dentistry good deeds get any easier over time….*whimpers*….

P.S. Love this song (“Dark End of the Street”), love this singer (Eva Cassidy). Enjoy!


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