Sharp Objects: A Meditation

Hello dear readers,

I often find it's fun to follow up a challenging week away from home with three almost back-to-back trips to the dentist. It was originally supposed to be one trip, but because I apparently grind my teeth I have developed some hefty muscles around my temporomandibular joint that make it challenging to numb my jaw. Even better, I have a little bird mouth and a truly amazing gag reflex, so as you can see, for all my best intentions of being on top of my own dentistry, I am actually not a very good dental patient. A good dental patient is someone who does not require their dentist to stop as many times as I do, especially as the local anesthesia, which didn't quite get where it was supposed to go because of the aforementioned hulking jaw muscle, wears off.

On Tuesday, the work was only halfway done when my dentist cried uncle. I resented that, because I felt like it was my word to cry, not hers. After all, she was the one wielding the drill. I, meanwhile, was defenseless and incredibly tense. After waving a white flag of surrender, my dentist told me she could finish the rest of her work before the end of the year. I said something along the lines of "Oh no, sister. You will finish this work tomorrow because I don't want to think about this anymore." She said that was fine, but only if I was put on laughing gas. Fair enough. I am self aware enough to know I'd want me to be on laughing gas too if I were my own dentist. Then, I called my sister and we laughed and laughed about what a total disaster I am. Oh wittle Paige and her wittle bird mouth and uptight ways. How precious is that, my wittle fraidy cat?

When my sister remembered she was overdue for a dentist trip, her face turned grim. Because she lives in Utah, we could only figuratively hold each other as we cried. There, there...wittle Katherine.

Anyway...the next day came, the laughing gas was administered, and I really didn't care about anything. My dentist could have built a metropolis in my mouth and I would have been fine with it. Turns out she only set me up with a temporary crown. I originally thought I'd have a couple weeks of relative peace until the real crown arrived...but then my dentist realized she needed to check one more thing before she sent the impression of my tooth out to be turned into a permanent crown.

She asked me if I could I come back Friday afternoon. I was no longer on laughing gas at this point, so I was back to my natural state of wanting to kill anyone who used sharp objects in my mouth for far too long.

"Ok," I told her. "But when this is over, I only want to be here for cleanings going forward."

Twitching like Commissioner Dreyfus to my Clouseau, she looked at me as if to say that would be her preference too.

Writing prompt: Think about the last time you went to the dentist. What characteristics does your dentist have that make him/her likable or terrifying? How did that go? What made it good or bad? Are you dreading going back? If so, why? If not, why not?

Endnotes

What I'm writing: The above piece on former U.S. Women's National Team defender Staci Wilson, who really needs to write a memoir.

What I'm reading: Kingmaker, Sonia Purnell's rollicking new biography of Pamela Harriman.

What I'm excited about: San Diego Padre Luis Arraez making history again as the first player in Major League Baseball to win three consecutive batting titles for three different teams.

What I'm looking forward to: The return of Decatur Book Festival this weekend. Trombone Shorty and Big Freedia at The Eastern tomorrow night. By the way, if you're in the Atlanta area and one of your favorite acts is scheduled to perform at this small venue, just buy the tickets. Trust me. So much fun!

Where I hope you'll donate this week: Hurricane Helene really did devastate Asheville, North Carolina. Please consider a donation to Beloved Asheville, Foothills Food Hub, Operation Airdrop, United Way of Asheville, and/or BINC Foundation.