"You Oughta Be in Pictures"
Thursday, February 2nd, 2012
My friend Paul is a dentist. He admits it’s not the most popular job around, but he insists that someone has to do it. I agree, on both accounts. Last week Paul had a pretty blond in her late twenties come in for a checkup. John’s receptionist told him that when the young woman made the appointment she admitted she was very afraid of dentists. She said this was the first time she’d been to a dentist since she was a young girl living at home and her mother forced her to go. The receptionist told John the woman was sitting in the waiting room nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.
Paul instructed his assistants to do everything they could do put her at ease. His hygienist was extra careful cleaning her teeth and taking her x-rays, but it didn’t seem to help. She was still nervous when Paul got to her room. He dreaded having to tell her the bad news. Paul chatted with her for while with the x-rays in his hand, until she finally asked. “What are those?”
“Well,” Paul told her, “These are your x-rays. They tell us whether or not you have any cavities and where they are.”
The young woman’s eyes grew big. “And if you find ‘em,” she said, “that’s when you use the drill, right?”
“Well, yes,” Paul said, “But there are several things we can do to make you comfortable.”
“Tell me. How many cavities do I have?” his patient asked, quietly.
Paul held the film up to the light. “According to these pictures, it looks like you have three on the bottom and four on the top.”
The young woman took the news solemnly. Then she smiled. “I don’t reckon you could just touch up the pictures, could you?”
~Shellie
Thursday, February 2nd, 2012
My friend Paul is a dentist. He admits it’s not the most popular job around, but he insists that someone has to do it. I agree, on both accounts. Last week Paul had a pretty blond in her late twenties come in for a checkup. John’s receptionist told him that when the young woman made the appointment she admitted she was very afraid of dentists. She said this was the first time she’d been to a dentist since she was a young girl living at home and her mother forced her to go. The receptionist told John the woman was sitting in the waiting room nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.
Paul instructed his assistants to do everything they could do put her at ease. His hygienist was extra careful cleaning her teeth and taking her x-rays, but it didn’t seem to help. She was still nervous when Paul got to her room. He dreaded having to tell her the bad news. Paul chatted with her for while with the x-rays in his hand, until she finally asked. “What are those?”
“Well,” Paul told her, “These are your x-rays. They tell us whether or not you have any cavities and where they are.”
The young woman’s eyes grew big. “And if you find ‘em,” she said, “that’s when you use the drill, right?”
“Well, yes,” Paul said, “But there are several things we can do to make you comfortable.”
“Tell me. How many cavities do I have?” his patient asked, quietly.
Paul held the film up to the light. “According to these pictures, it looks like you have three on the bottom and four on the top.”
The young woman took the news solemnly. Then she smiled. “I don’t reckon you could just touch up the pictures, could you?”
~Shellie
