I have had a time lately with my teeth.
A broken tooth led to an abscess, which eventually led to a root canal.
It has been several weeks of pure torture.
I didn't realize how much this was affecting my entire mood until my new little puppy went into a full-on panic mode when I began laughing hysterically at a clip from America's Funniest Home Videos.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked my husband. "Do I not laugh anymore?"
"Not in a long time," he begrudgingly admitted.
Taken aback and more than a little ashamed of myself, I vowed to do better, no matter how bad I was feeling.
My efforts were less than stellar.
Quite frankly, I'm a big baby when I don't feel well. I want my mommy and I want everyone else to leave me alone.
But I did have enough wisdom to know not to make any decisions, especially regarding the ministry, while I was feeling this way.
Because I was ready to abandon the entire homeless ministry. They weren't changing, nobody cared, I was wasting my time....
Of course that wasn't entirely true. We'd gotten two people off the streets during this period and I'd attended the graduation of a girl I never expected to complete her rehab stay. Not only did she graduate, she was hired on to staff!
So there were some positive moments.
Lesson: It is so easy to skew your vision based on your mood and mindset.
I did, however, back off a little from some of my "regulars" who frequently regard me as their personal shopper and chauffeur.
"What do they think I am, a taxi?" I'd snap to my husband.
"They aren't any different than they've always been," he replied.
This was true. The difference was definitely me. So I tried to to get out of the flesh and back in the Spirit.
Lesson: It is VERY hard to ignore the flesh when the flesh is hurting.
So I did what is probably considered a cardinal sin for ministers.
I blocked several numbers.
Not content with just keeping my ringer off, I actually blocked the numbers of my most high-maintenance people. I not only didn't want to answer their calls, I didn't even want to know that they called.
It was a much quieter week and after the first few days, I didn't even feel bad that I'd blocked them.
Then came yesterday.
It was time to return to the original dentist, the one who'd sent me to the endodontist for the root canal. He was to put a permanent filling in before making a mold for a crown. (At this point, I'm wondering why I didn't listen to my husband and just pull the thing weeks ago but I was almost through by then.)
Lacking the refined techniques of the specialist, he bumbled around in my mouth hitting my lip, tongue, and non-numbed gums. Gripping the chair's armrests, I was admittedly jumpy, but pretty still given the fact that I didn't want my tongue drilled down as well.
I can only assume this somehow insulted the good doctor, as he actually got mad at me for being uncomfortable.
"This is between you and me now," he grumbled.
What is he talking about? I wondered. Is he sending the technician out?
I've opted to use the laughing gas, and while I wasn't laughing, I was fairly relaxed, albeit confused.
"There's going to be no charge for today and I never want to see you again. You will find someone else."
Wait, what? What's happening? I dared to open my eyes to see the older gentleman peering into my mouth with the tightest jawline I'd ever seen.
He's mad at me? What?!! Surely the laughing gas has made me delirious. How is this dentist upset at me for being uncomfortable in a dental chair? I mean, right? People aren't relaxed in dental chairs.
By the time he finished, I was sure that a) I was not hallucinating and b) he was furious at me.
"IN ALL MY FORTY YEARS AS A DENTIST I HAVE NEVER MET A PATIENT AS UNCOOPERATIVE AS YOU!" he screamed as he stormed out of the room.
Unable to hold back tears, I was visibly shaken.
"Wh-wh-what did I do wrong?" I whisper-cried to the sole witness in the room.
"Nothing." She was clearly caught between a rock and hard place. Console the sobbing patient she'd been left with and betray her boss? "You were just a little apprehensive and it made him nervous."
A popular phrase from the 80's immediately popped in my head, one that referred to a fictional detective but also contained a 4-letter word that I no longer use, so I refrained from speaking it.
"Okayyy, but what did I do that was so bad?"
"You didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry about it."
Don't worry about it? DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT?!! Are you kidding me? I've just been left mid-procedure (turns out he WAS finished, just didn't bother cleaning the bits of filling that were all over my mouth) AND banned from a dental office. It's not like I visit the dentist for fun.
The poor guy who was entering the office did a double take as I emerged a hysterical mess. He had to have thought twice about keeping THAT appointment.
I sat in my car trying to compose myself before driving.
I was unsuccessful.
But I didn't want to stay in the parking lot any longer so I drove through my tears.
My first call was to the friend who'd recommended him. She should suffer too, right?! But she was unavailable.
I then called my dad. Daddies make everything better. He would have this guy investigated by the FBI, I was sure of it. But he didn't answer.
I reluctantly called my husband. Now he was feeling the pain of the bill for these procedures already so I wasn't sure how he'd respond.
But like my knight in shining armor he offered to go give the dentist a piece of his mind.
Thank you, but that's okay. I wanted to be angry but I wasn't. I was still too dumbfounded.
What kind of dentist gets mad at a patient for being uncomfortable?!!
I then called my best friend. I was going on an hour post-visit and my crying hadn't even slowed a drop.
She gave me the required encouragement ("You didn't do anything wrong.") with the typical bff back-up ("We're going to report him to the board for this.") punctuated by not-quite-cursing swear words like craptastic.
I finally stopped crying.
But I could not stop repeating the phrase, WHAT KIND OF DENTIST GETS MAD AT A PATIENT FOR BEING UNCOMFORTABLE?
I said it at least every thirty minutes. I thought it even more.
I fell asleep on the couch, emotionally drained while my little puppy looked the salty remnants of tears from my face. Awakening with a slight crick in my neck but a buoyancy in my Spirit, the Lord had prepared my heart during my nap.
As the devil does with things that bother you, the darts started the minute I sat up. Reliving the hurt and humiliation of being thrown out of a dentist's office, that familiar thought crept back in.
What kind of dentist gets mad at a patient for being uncomfortable?
This time that still, small voice was ready.
Kind of like a minister that gets mad at lost people for not living right...
Talk about humbling oneself in the sight of the Lord...
There was no arguing, no justification. He was right. I'd been wrong.
Yes, the dentist had been wrong but he was in the profession to save teeth, not lives.
I'd blown it big time.
I immediately removed the blocks from my phone.
Not sure how to explain my radio silence, I sent a (slightly misleading) text out.
"Hey how's it going? My notifications on my phone were off so if you called or sent me a message this week I didn't get it."
The relieved texts came flooding in.
"I've texted you all week." "Thank you! I wondered why you never answered."
I was wrong, but I wouldn't dwell on it. The lesson had been learned and it was a tough one.
Thankfully, He is a forgiving God.
I, too, will have to forgive.
But I still have to find a new dentist.
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