Never one to love a trip to the dentist, I found myself in one’s lair last week. You may remember last week I told you about my hectic and aborted trip to see my new girl doctor up at the VA and after a hectic and tardy start—I got a call to not come. Well that was not good. But I got a call from the VA dental offices the next day. The officious lady on the other end of the line told me to be there early the next morning.

I complied and was delayed at the screening area for about 20 minutes getting my blood oxygen, temperature taken and ad nauseum. I hit the next level of screeners and one called the dental clinic to see if I did indeed have an appointment. I could hear the Czar on the other end of the phone tell the man that I was 20 minutes late and would have to try again tomorrow. She further said, “We have already taken 20 walk-ins this morning and no way we can see him.” I told the guy that I wanted to go up there anyway and he let me pass.

It was as I had supposed, one patient was in the waiting room and after I bumped into a nurse I knew, she said, “Oh, I’m glad to see you, follow me.” We walked down the long, empty hallways and then passed several empty workplaces and relaxed workers. I was seated in operatory 12.

After x-rays were made a live dentist came in and studied the pictures. “Why have you just let this go?” he asked. “Well, last year you guys told me it had to be fixed and made me an appointment for December of 2019, but you called and rescheduled it but that one was also cancelled. You said the Doctor who does root canals was out for the week.”

Then you made another but cancelled it at the last minute and then the one I had in late March or April was also cancelled. The dental technician then piped up, “well that’s right.” And she read off the list of cancellations. So now I have an appointment on Thursday, August 6 th . Today.

I think the good doctor could somehow see the concern I get in my eyes every time I find myself seated in one of those dental chairs. It may have started when I was in the 6 ^th grade. My family wasn’t much for going to dentist. But mom dragged me (also money conscious) to one in Ada one day. I had 14 cavities. The old dentist on the 2 ^nd floor above the Homer Hensler Drug Store had been selected after being carefully price screened by my money careful dad.

The doctor gripped my mom out for being such a bad mother and letting my teeth go to pot that way and said he would have to just do them all. Right then. Mother told him after the discussion over costs were ended to just numb him up a little and get it done. Well, he did, and I promised my Lord and Savior that I would never ever go back to a dentist. Ever. A few weeks later an afflicted tooth again let me down. I had been up all night in pain, fever and fear. No way was I going back to our cut rate guy. So they made a call to another dentist. This time dad took me. The menacing office nurse at this new place asked me if I was in pain. I said no. We didn’t get in—that day.

I was not a popular kid back in Stonewall at the Bullard home. Mom and dad were furious at me. Eventually we went back and I got it fixed after much finger pointing and lecturing by said dentist.

Anyway, I hope all of you have a good week and can stay clear of the dentist. And if you don’t ever see me again, you’ll know what happened up there. I love hearing from you.

And be sure and go to church.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

cwaynebullard@gmail.com