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   Going to the dentist is a lot like wanting to find out if getting shot with a gun hurts, so you shoot yourself in the foot to find out. The first dentist were trained in Spain in the 1400's during the Spanish Inquisition. Many of their nefarious instruments are still used today by dentist and slaughter house technicians. Whether we like it or not, the dentist is an absolute part of our life, much like birth and death and all the abundant pain associated with these events.  

     No....I don't like dentist. Dentists can be very frustrating to an old fart like me. You wait a month-and-a-half for an appointment, and then once they crawl inside your mouth, they say, “You shouldn't have put this off so long." You can't argue or complain cause they got their elbow in your mouth. The only plus is my cute dental hygienist. Very sweet and flirty....old guys like that. Every time I visit, I eat a whole package of Oreo cookies while I'm in the waiting room. Sometimes she has to cancel the rest of the afternoon’s appointments just for me. One more thing, I hate those friggin Novocain shots, but have developed a very nice relationship with the Nitrous Oxide gas.  

     OK....here's the story. Being a good grand dad, I took my 10 year old grand son to the dentist one day. It was not a good day for "Weezer". I have always called him Weezer from a character in the old "Our Gang" series back in the 30's. I picked him up at school one afternoon and as we walked down the hall to the exit door, he reminded me a lot of the convict walking that last mile to the electric chair. I knew he probably needed a few fillings, his first, and it would be the first time he would associate the term "filling" with anything other than chocolate. Later, as we pulled into the parking lot of the dental clinic, I asked him if he had any last wishes.....it was not taken well. Once inside the dentist office I signed him in and we had a seat....his fate was sealed.  

     This particular dentist specialized in kids only. Considering the economy and the hard times, with a lot of parents out of work, this dentist took Kidcare and Medicare and a great many families depended on these services for their kids. This meant the dentist was always busy and the waiting room always packed! I picked up a copy of 'Parenting Today magazine' that was about 8 months old and looked at the main story line...."Reasoning With Love, Not Discipline". I quickly put it back down and looked for a Home And Garden issue. I looked over at Weezer and he looked pale and had a blank stare.....he was waiting for them to hook up the chair. Every time the door opened to the treatment rooms, his little heart stopped. They would be coming soon. First the priest and then all the dentist in bloody white coats.  

     Giving up on the magazines, I looked around the waiting room and noticed something about most of the Moms there. They were all very large. I'm not blind to the real world and know most women are size 14 to 18,(Wifey says so), and my honey is a "petite large" and more beautiful now than the vision healthy day I first met her. Anyway......a Mom walked into the office with her little girl and walked up to the peek-a-boo window to sign in. I want to be delicate on how I describe this. Her butt looked like two large hams stuffed into a polyester laundry bag. I was self-ashamed because I was gawking at her, but it was a lot like seeing a train wreck, you just can't take your eyes away. I could see that most of the Moms there were well established fast food connoisseurs and knew the exact times when Dunkin Donuts put out the fresh batches. Most had very round children with angry hair. Weezer could only heard the tick - tock of the wall clock.  

     After an hour of waiting, the door to the death chamber opened and a smiling lady dressed in a loose fitting uniform printed with dancing teeth and flying smiles, stepped out and called Weezer's official name. For a moment he stared and then looked up at me to verify if she was talking about him. We got up and as much as I wanted to hold his hand, I knew it wasn't cool so I just put my hand on his shoulder and together, we walked into the room where the witnesses must have been gathered behind a curtained glass window to watch the filling procedure. The lady with the dancing teeth helped him into the Chair and then put the blood bib around his neck. He sat there as she set him up for x-rays and she asked me to step outside for a moment. Then she threw the switch! Weezer took a deep breath and it was done. He did well. She pulled all the x-ray junk out of his mouth, praised him for doing so good and then she left. I walked over to a chair in the corner and sat down. I said, "You know there's still more to come, don't you?" He just closed his eyes.  

     The dentist came in and I shook both our hands. "OK, let's see what we got." He looked at the x-rays and then put on his doctor mask and gloves, then bent over the boy and said "Open wide, a little wider, a little wider....very good." After picking! around for a moment he turned and said, "Three minor surface cavities. We'll do them all now." Whatever religious elements my grandson had, seem to vaporize when the dentist said, "Now, just two small injections." He then took a Q-tip looking thing and applied something to numb the boy's gum. "I'll be back in a few....you OK?" Weezer sadly nodded his condemned head, as he knew the dentist would soon return with a black hood over his head. The dental tech came back after a few minutes with the injections and soon the doctor was doing the deed. I noticed all of Weezer's fingers were spread out and starting to twist in different directions. Then it was done. The doc stepped out and after a minute I got up and walked over to the boy.  

     "You OK, Weezer?"  

     He looked up at me and said with rubber lips, "Wagna fa nal."

     "
That's good," I said, and then I went and sat back down.  

     Moments later, the doc was back and as he engaged the drill and directed it towards my grandson's mouth, I could clearly see the young boy's life flashing before his eyes. Fifteen minutes and it was all done. All done. When the dentist finished the last filling and said, "You did great and I'll see you in six months." I thought the boy would kiss the doctor's hand if allowed. Weezer was out of the chair taking his own bib off and leading the way to the waiting room where the heifers were grazing. I caught up with him and once we were in the car I said I was proud of him and he deserved something special, and to just name it.  

     He blabbered; "Dookan Dulnats." Ya gotta love em!


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