Payback

Admit it. You wondered about all the embarrassing stuff I said at the dentist that morning. Was it really as bad as Hannah said? It was. And worse, probably. I shall confess all the gory details to you ONLY because of what happened later that morning. In order to fully appreciate that, you need to know how the day began.

Hannah and I had early-bird dentist appointments. It’s pretty fortunate that the dentist offers such a convenient time. If all went well, Hannah could be done and off to school without missing even a minute of first period, much to her disappointment.

We arrived to the dental office only a few minutes late, which was completely my fault; I always think I can get to places faster than reality allows.

We were whisked off to separate but adjacent rooms. It was only a matter of seconds before my string of faux pas began.

“Is there anything we should know?” asked my hygienist.

“Yes. Tons. For starters, I’ve cut down on coffee, but I’ve increased my red wine considerably, as I’m sure you’ll see. Also, I’ve been actively avoiding coming here ever since my last visit nine months ago when the dentist referred me to that specialist for the gum recession transplant thing. I got really freaked out when she said all that stuff about synthetic materials or GOD FORBID the cadaver tissue! But then I realized that avoiding you and my routine cleanings weren’t going to solve the problem, so, here I am. Did I mention the red wine? Oh yes. Yup. Also, I had a banana nut breakfast bar on the way over, because after I brushed my teeth, I remembered how you guys have gotten all gung-ho about fluoride treatments for adults and whatnot, and I couldn't remember how long I'd need to wait before I could eat again. There’s probably more to confess, but I can’t remember at the moment. I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

I settled back in the chair and they turned on the powerful lamp to get started. Beyond the lamp, I could make out a flat screen tv suspended from the ceiling. It was supposed to be for my viewing pleasure, but with the examination light radiating the wattage of a thousand suns, it didn’t seem like a viable option. I settled for listening, which turned out to be a blessing since the feature news story involved a leg-less athlete being charged with murdering his girlfriend in Africa. At one point, the hygienist removed the tools from my mouth and looked up at the photos they were showing on the news.

I seized my chance.

“Wow, TVs on the ceiling. That’s pretty snazzy. Doesn’t it hurt your neck to glance up from where you’re sitting, though? I bet when you guys first had those things installed, all the hygienists developed mysterious neck aches. It was probably one of those things where nobody even connected the two events at first, right?

“Uh,” she said, and quickly jammed the tools back into my mouth to shut me up, leaving me to wonder if all hygienists were this inarticulate, or if it was just mine. 

The polishing phase had begun. Without meaning to, I winced.

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” she asked, removing the apparatus.

“Not at all,” I replied. “I was just startled by the noise of the polishing device. It sounds so different from the inside of my head. I could hear it perfectly, but it’s like I was listening from the inside, almost like I had a tiny little ear inside my throat. I never thought about this before, but do you suppose that our ears can hear things from the inside direction just like they can from exterior sources? Maybe I should research that some—“

Back in went the tool. Was this her strategy for gabby customers?

When she got to the other side, I flinched again. This time I didn’t even wait for her to remove the polisher thingy.

“Waah, thatch pretty quay-shee,” I started. She sighed and suspended her efforts.

“Sorry, it’s just that startling noise again. It’s so squeaky! It’s like I have a hamster wheel in my mouth. Or a gerbil. No, it’s like I have a herd of gerbils in my mouth. It’s so disconcerting!”

She reassured me that she was almost done.

Her patience was waning.

Moments later she did finish, and she practically jogged as she escorted me to the checkout desk. Was it something I’d said?

Fast-forward two hours.

A pool repair man was scheduled to arrive ‘early Monday morning’ (their words, not mine) to address our on-going leak with the subwoofer. Or whatever. I was grateful for this early timeline, provided that we’d arrived back from the dentist, because Mondays are the day that kindergarteners can dine with their parents at lunch, starting promptly at 11 am.

Mr. Repairdude arrived at 10:52. Oh boy, I’d be cutting this one close. Could I give him the check, lock the house, and zoom over to the elementary school in time?

Not if this guy had anything to do with it.

He came to the back door and politely introduced himself, which set my mind at ease since he looked like a cross between wrestler Mick Foley and Diedrich Bader’s eavesdropping neighbor role in the movie Office Space. He jabbered on for a few minutes about qualifications (or lack thereof) within the pool repair industry, and then went on to assure me that he was plenty qualified and capable.

10:58. Should I even try? I glanced at my watch again. He didn’t take the hint.

Then, he proceeded to talk about…

1.       Heathcare crisis in America, specifically Obamacare, and how it will punish small businesses.

2.       Raw milk, and the regulations that Texas law has in place that limit access, apparently.

3.       Codliver Oil, and the way it can be used to heal cavities. (Note: I did NOT tell him we’d been to the dentist that morning. This was a complete coincidence.)

4.       Toothbrushing, and his decision to abstain. Apparently it is the antichrist in the form of big business.

5.       The dangers of fluoride to the human body as evidenced by the botanical response in the antioxidants in tea leaves? Or something?

6.       A man (or place) that has discovered the cure to cancer but is being actively thwarted in the media by pharmaceutical companies and consequently, the FDA.

7.       Netflix, and its wealth of educational documentaries so that you can learn more about healing your own cavities, the dangers of fluoride, and the  conspiracy against the cure for cancer.

8.       The benefits of making your own sausage in traditional German technique, only to be hindered by the rot-response of today’s American beef. Which is especially frustrating after you’ve gone to the trouble of killing and processing your own deer meat, he indicated.

 

I could go on. He certainly did. There were at least 22 other horrible things that he discussed in depth during his 86 minute visit to Chateau Robinson, but I think my subconsciousness is blocking them out.

Finally, finally, finally, he refocused long enough to talk about the pool’s issues. And do you know what he said?

“I think I know how to solve the problem, but I don’t have the part and I’ll need to order it. Is it okay if I stop by around this time next Monday?”

Ever the gracious southern belle, albeit a transplant, I cordially agreed. I waited until he’d left before I burst into tears.

I now knew how the hygienist must have felt. Times ten, probably.

I made sure I wasn’t home the following Monday. I arrived back at the house around 2 pm, and saw—from the ally—that his truck was in the driveway. I drove right on past and continued circling the block until the coast was clear.

Payback, it seems, is everything your mama [or your karma] promised, and more. Speaking of more, that old adage about ‘less is more’ is spot-on. I promised the universe I’d employ that technique the next time I went to the dentist.