A visit to the dentist, Part 3

Posted Dec 23, 2008 by Mike Winter

Updated Dec 23, 2008 at 05:47 PM

I’ve had a vision of the future. Like most windows into tomorrow, it was both informative and disquieting. Kind of like Ebenezer Scrooge’s encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Future. Only instead of a grim specter appearing in the dusty bedroom of a miserly old codger, it was a young woman with a cup of valium-laced syrup sweeping into the waiting room at my daughter’s dentist.

This was Tess’s second and hopefully final visit to have her cavity filled. The first attempt had to be waved off mid-procedure because she began to fidget, even though she was being pumped with copious amounts of nitrous oxide and her father was making helpful lulling motions in the air (I prefer the “petting an imaginary cat” technique, but “smoothing an invisible blanket” is an acceptable alternative. ) Since neither method was effective, here we were, my wife and I, watching as our daughter gulped two tablespoons of liquid relaxation.

The woman informed us it would take an hour for the valium to take full effect, but within minutes Tess was beginning to stagger.

“Put her on your lap and don’t let go,” my wife said. She had never been comfortable with the whole “drugging up our daughter” thing and sat next to me ramrod straight and light-lipped with grim disapproval (the last time I saw that look was halfway through Spamalot when I realized the beer I drank in the mezzanine before the show had been a very, very bad idea and wouldn’t you know it we’re stuck right in the middle of the row with 123 people to either side and intermission still 20 squirming, rocking, knuckling-biting minutes away. ) 

“I won’t let her out of my grasp,” I assured her.

Easier said than done. It wasn’t long before Tess informed us she was “dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.” This development obviously delighted her. To intensify the experience she began throwing her head back so she could stare at the walls upside-down. 

“The peppermint fish are swimming backwards!” she declared. The good news was that there actually were fish on the wall, an entire undersea mural, in fact. The bad news was that none of them, so far as I could tell, were peppermint.

“Do NOT let go of her,” my wife reiterated.

Later, when Tess asked if she could play one of the video games lining the far wall I checked with her mother.

“Long as you don’t let go of her.”

By then Tess had sagged into a puddle of softly burbling syrup in my lap. My wife, by contrast, appeared to be chiseled from granite. I was pretty sure I could slide the chair out from under her without undermining her balance in the slightest. All of her weight was supported on her tightly clenched thighs and calves.

I picked up Tess and poured her into the chair in front of the game monitor.

“You doing okay?” I asked.

“I’m a wiggly worm!” 

“Wonderful.”

The game controller was just out of reach. I made a dash for it. I lunged, snatched and lunged back in time to see my daughter’s face hit the floor. “Worms wiggle!” she said, making a series of undulations as my wife ran across the room. Tess appeared to be unharmed, but in her condition she could probably have shaken off any mishap short of decapitation, and maybe even that.

“I told you not to let go of her!”

I was prepared for this line of attack and fell back on my old, reliable standby: “Sorry, honey.”

“Are to okay, Tess?”

“I’m not Tess. I’m a big worm.”

“Well,” I offered, “at least now we know what she’ll be like in twelve years when she comes home sloshed after sneaking out to that party we forbid her to go to.”

As usual, my conversation ended one sentence later that it should have. But I have to say in the end it was all worth it. My daughter now has a bright new filling, a trauma-free memory of her first dental work and a coupon good for a McDonalds cheeseburger for being such a good patient.

If she ever needs another filling, I plan on giving her a couple shots of whiskey before we leave the house. My wife, that is. Tess, I have no doubt, will be happy to resume her role as a wiggly worm.