More Than a Tooth Ache

January 5, 2012
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It was a beautiful, sunny, clear summer day. I woke up with plenty of ideas about what to do today since we didn’t have school. I was lying in my too-comfortable-that-I-cant-get-up bed while trying to decide whether swimming or bike riding was a better option for today’s activities. Then, my mom came in with news that immediately dampened my summer spirits.
“Rise and shine,” she said almost too excitedly, “We need to leave for the dentist in half-an-hour!” Immediately I groaned like I had just gotten the worst stomach ache. My perfect, free summer day had been rained on. Now I got to spend my time sitting in a plastic chair while some old guy stuck his hand in my mouth and looked for cavities to drill.
As you are reading this you are probably thinking that visiting the dentist is no big deal and it isn’t. But try and see it from my point-of-view. When you are five years old everything changes. You don’t like the way the toothpaste tastes and the way the dentist brushes your teeth hurts. And during the time that this is going on you are worrying the whole time about whether or not you have a cavity.
I ate breakfast while my mom had to round up my other three siblings and deal with all of their similar complaints. Finally, she managed to force everyone to be ready and pile into our van. How she did it, I have no idea. Our family is never short of miracles.
As we got out of the car and headed towards the uninviting doors leading to the dentist we all stalled. No one wanted to be the first to step into the dark hallways filled with thick air that smells like old toothpaste and cleaning supplies.
At last, me being the oldest, and of course, most mature five year old of the four of us took the responsibility of walking in first. The wooden door was heavy but I managed to hold it open long enough for me to squeeze through and into the dentist’s office. I walked in and went straight to play with all the toys in the kid’s area and read some magazines that really didn’t interest me. I was just trying to occupy myself to keep the nerves from creeping up.
Meanwhile, my brother was trying to build a giant Lego tower that just kept crashing down into the soft carpet. My sister, Carly, was climbing around on these tall, fuzzy chairs covered with rug-like material. I was sitting next to my mom reading a magazine article about butterflies when I heard a crash. No one even flinched because we all thought it was one of the many Lego tower destructions happening in the corner.
About one minute later Carly was standing in front of my mom and me. We were waiting for her to say something when all of a sudden we both freaked out. I was getting a little dizzy because I am not good at handling anything concerning blood or injuries. Everything was normal about my sister except for one thing that she seemed to think was pretty minor. I on the other hand knew this was a big problem; this was the kind of stuff only a five year old could imagine to be in horror movies! Carly was standing in front of my eyes with a hole a little bigger than the size of a quarter in her forehead.
All she said was, “I fell”. My mom immediately started firing questions at her as the dental assistants kept handing her tissues and cotton to hold to her head. After all the commotion and question asking, the conclusion was made that while she was climbing on the chairs, Carly had fallen and hit her head on the corner of the square-shaped table in between the huge chairs. We had to leave before we even got our teeth checked, but a cavity was the smallest thing on my mind at the moment. By the time we were all back in the car, my mom had received enough cotton to last her a year! They left to go get stitches, while I, after all that, got to enjoy my day at the pool with some family friends. Let’s just say I never look at the dentist’s office the same way. The next time we came back, the table was circular! No one has needed stitches since.





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