Dental Plan: Part II

The second part of my root canal took place three days later. I wasn't too worried about anything because nothing hurt that badly the first time. I figured he would come in and wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am my mouth in no time. The guy works fast. As though he's sleeping through his routines. He probably concentrates harder on his golf game, if, in fact, he plays golf. I was tired when I walked in. I had come from a Monday's work and would rather have been anywhere else. I knew that he took a while to get to me once I took my spot in his chair, so I decided to take a nap rather than watch the family slideshow again. It was a rather peaceful sleep. I described the setting, as I'm wont to do when my brain is racing. I definitely wasn't thinking about the fact that there was a drill in front of me that was going to invade in a few moments. Every once in a while I opened my eyes to see what picture the slideshow was on. Oh, I haven't seen this one. Then I'd get sucked in. Then I'd close my eyes again. "Hello." The doctor's beaming Russian greeting jarred me from my fake nap. "Hey, what's up?" He repeated me, again, but this time with a laugh and a glance at his hygienist. The "what's up" is a popular term for non-Americans to laugh at. I wonder what they say about it abroad? Stupid Americans and there ridiculous greetings. "What's up?" The sky is up. Who knows. But he's not the first one who's repeated it with such adamance. I'd like to say that he slapped on his latex gloves at this point, but I can't because he doesn't use gloves. "If you wanna go get some dinner, that'd be cool," I said, trying to stall him. And to get a reaction. "I can just wait here for you." He looked at me with a grin on his face. "Dinner is at 7. Then Schnapps." "Schnapps. Nice. All right then. Do what you have to do." And wham bam thank you ma'am, it was. A drilling to get rid of the temporary filling, and some more digging, I think, and another filling situation. He asked for tools without saying anything. He and his hygienist work in concert perfectly. And while he conducts his work in a seemingly sleepy state, he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. I can relate to this way of concentration. When I played basketball, my tongue often came out of my mouth. But never as much as when I shot freethrows. Four quick dribbles, a simultaneous spin of the ball and bend of the knees were all complemented by my outstretched tongue. Just to add a level of seriousness. And when I ran the bases in softball, the tongue was wagging for no apparent reason. With one final swoop of the second temporary filling, the doc was done with part two. He told me to rinse and spit. "Enjoy your Schnapps," I said to him as he ran out the door. He beamed a smile that revealed his perfect teeth and thanked me. See you for part three, doc.