The Appointment

Yesterday morning I headed to Nearby City for a dental appointment. Mother has been staying with me a bit as a post-hospital adventure. I told her to tell her friends that she has been in rehab here. She laughed. Before heading to Nearby City, I took my house guest to her home as she had packed and declared her readiness to go.

I was checking my time and had everything orchestrated to arrive for the appointment a few minutes early. I hate to be late. I'm hardly ever late. I figure lateness is rudeness, so manage to be on time. I allow a bit for travel to Nearby City. One never knows what new construction or issues will be encountered. Much of the way there is no passing, so a driver who is more into scenery that actually arriving at a destination can put a kink into the whole being on time thing. Therefore, allowing a little extra time is sensible.

I deposited Mother at her home, then headed down the road to Nearby City. I needed to be there for my 10:15 a.m. appointment. I made wonderful time and arrived a little earlier than I'd planned. I didn't really want to cool my heals too long in the waiting room of the dental office, but there was no time for anything else either. I approached the office window, signed in on the clipboard, smiled at the receptionist, and said, 'I'm a little early, I know.' She typed a few things into the computer and looked up at me with a smile. Then she said, 'Well, I must be confused as have you down for a 2:00 p.m. appointment. Perhaps I made a mistake.'

I learned years ago that I MUST write things on my calendar. I do that automatically. I then transfer things into my computer calendar. My computer calendar had alerted me to my appointment, and here I was.... on time.

I reached into my purse and retrieved my calendar, found April and looked at the notation in square 28. OH NO!! There it was.... plainly marked on my no fail calendar. Dental Appt. 2:00 p.m.

I'm sure realization must have been read plainly on my face. I'd crossed over. I can't be responsible for myself. I had arrived early.... way too early... almost four hours early. I stated the obvious to the smiling receptionist. 'Well', I said, 'I guess I have finally done it. I can't believe I've actually done this!' Then I did the shameful thing.... really shameful.... I played the Blame Game. I heard myself offering excuses for my craziness. From somewhere a quiet little laugh surfaced and I heard myself saying, 'I've had my mother living with me all week and I've crossed over.' I confess it. I actually said that. I blamed my mother. Shame!!! I guess I just thought I needed an excuse of some sort, and this one seemed to work.

Thankfully, the receptionist didn't launch into a lecture about timing and blaming. She just smiled quietly and said, 'We actually have a little time, so let's just let the dentist look at your tooth now. If he can manage to repair it now, fine. If not, you will have to come back at 2:00 p.m.'

I then began to pray that my tooth could be easily fixed. I had found a little chip and figured the dentist should be informed. He would know how to deal with it. It didn't hurt, and it didn't bother me, and it wasn't sensitive. 'Please, Lord!!! Let him just be able to put a little stuff in there and call it good. No drilling, please!!! Also, please forgive my blaming stuff on my mother.'

I waited in the waiting room thumbing through the latest edition of 'Better Homes and Gardens' while I made my requests listed above. At 10:20 a.m. I heard my name. I put down the magazine, heisted myself from the chair, and followed obediently into the recesses of the dental office. I climbed into the chair and settled in for whatever would follow.

Soon the dentist came through the door and asked me what was up. I told him that I just loved him so much and had to come see him again. He laughed. He knows that isn't true at all. It made him smile. I like for my dentist to be in a good mood when he is about to take a drill to my mouth. I sure don't want him in a bad mood. I don't mean that I've ever suspected that he was in a bad mood. I just want insurance and I figured a little levity wouldn't hurt.

Then he got down to business. He peered into my mouth, spotted that little chip, and inserted a dental mirror and a pointy instrument. I said, 'I phougt u mite ust fut sumn n ther n call it goot.' He smiled again. I'm glad I'm so entertaining. Then he issued a few instructions to his dental assistant. They were music to my ears. He smiled at me... oh joy! 'We are going to patch this and hope it holds. If not, we will have to do a crown.' Patch! A little enamel, a little light to cure it... no drilling with shots needed!

He grabbed the drill and gave a light touch to the tooth. He put in some of that wonderful enamel and bonded it with that light thingie. Then I was OUT OF THERE. No muss, no fuss, no drilling! Thank you, Lord!

The rest of the day was a joyous time of shopping in Nearby City knowing that the dental appointment was over and nothing really serious had to be done. I managed to get my list of things done and was even home by mid afternoon. I hope not to have to go back to the dentist anytime soon. He is a fine dentist, but I really don't love him enough to ever want to see him again. Tah Dah.