A Dental Cleaning when you are on Chemo
It's a little nerve wracking. You are on Xgeva and you've been instructed by your oncologist to show the information sheets regarding this drug to your dentist. You are allowed to have your teeth cleaned, but told not to do anything else without clearing it with her.
You adore your dentist. It has taken over 55 years for you to find a dentist that you can say this about. Frankly, no one likes their dentist. Except that you do. Like her.
She's part of the resistance. You've always wanted a doctor who had The Atlantic magazines in her waiting room and a shelf full of books by women sitting in there, too. She always has CNN on the waiting room television and in all the dental work rooms. Stuff it if you don't like it. Go somewhere else. Her receptionist is a man who wears tee shirts that say things like Ignorance is not a Virtue or Science is Not a Liberal Conspiracy. You have not had a doctor whom you felt comfortable talking to about politics since Dr. L, your first breast cancer oncologist. You like this. You also like that she is up front about her beliefs but she doesn't make snide remarks if others disagree with her.
Most of your family would not be caught dead in her office and this is a big reason why you love it so much. You are ALWAYS the orphan at the table. But not at this one.
Plus, and most importantly, she does good work, is fair priced, and is honest.
Today, you hand Jeffery, the receptionist, your new insurance card and say, "My wife changed jobs since the last time I was here, so we have new insurance cards."
There is no tilting up of eyebrows. No facial blushing. No quick look up at you to get a peek at the dyke. Jeffery just asks where her new job is....out of curiosity.
Your hygienist is Sally. She is young and new to the job. You show her your paperwork, have a long talk about what x-rays are needed and which are not.
You were a little worried that there would be the poor cancer girl looks, but....thankfully....Dr. K's staff is well trained. They are kind but not smarmy.
After the tests are run and your teeth are polished up as prettily as several-cups-of-coffee-per-day teeth can look, it is time for Dr. K to come in and talk to you.
She walks in saying, "God, that sucks SOOO bad that the freakin' cancer is back, girl."
This is one of several reasons why you like her. She just cuts right to the chase. She plops down next to you and doesn't try to hold your hand or give you puppy eyes. She looks at you as her peer and tells you straight up that for a 60 year old woman with terminal cancer, your teeth are fucking beautiful.
Sally, who is standing next to Dr. K pipes up.
"I know! I was amazed at how great her teeth are. L, you are a great flosser, I could see that right away. And her teeth barely needed to be cleaned, Dr. K!"
You feel ridiculously proud. In a world where you....medically....fail everything right and left and sideways....you are succeeding here. You have nice teeth. You are a conscientious tooth scrubber. You say this out loud and Dr. K laughs her big, generous laugh.
"You know the secret to having such great teeth?"
You look at her. She grins wickedly.
"Never let the creeps win. Keep on refusing to suffer fools and idiots."
This makes you laugh. It feels good to feel that little bubble finding a rise in your chest.
"Ok, now scoot home and take a nap or go for a walk or read or something," Dr. K says and, finally.....she takes your hand and squeezes it. Once.
"And come back in July for your six month check up....you hear me?"
You nod. There is a lump in your throat. You follow Sally out the door and there is Jeffery with your coat.
"I put it in front of the heater to get warm," he says. "I noticed that you looked a little chilly."
He holds out your coat and you slip into the warmth of it. When he has you tucked into it, he leans downs and whispers, "Stay strong, warrior woman."
You smile, nod, and head out to the car.
This place is not for everyone, but for those of you who belong....it is a perfect fit.
On the way home, you smile at everyone with your perfect teeth.
You adore your dentist. It has taken over 55 years for you to find a dentist that you can say this about. Frankly, no one likes their dentist. Except that you do. Like her.
She's part of the resistance. You've always wanted a doctor who had The Atlantic magazines in her waiting room and a shelf full of books by women sitting in there, too. She always has CNN on the waiting room television and in all the dental work rooms. Stuff it if you don't like it. Go somewhere else. Her receptionist is a man who wears tee shirts that say things like Ignorance is not a Virtue or Science is Not a Liberal Conspiracy. You have not had a doctor whom you felt comfortable talking to about politics since Dr. L, your first breast cancer oncologist. You like this. You also like that she is up front about her beliefs but she doesn't make snide remarks if others disagree with her.
Most of your family would not be caught dead in her office and this is a big reason why you love it so much. You are ALWAYS the orphan at the table. But not at this one.
Plus, and most importantly, she does good work, is fair priced, and is honest.
Today, you hand Jeffery, the receptionist, your new insurance card and say, "My wife changed jobs since the last time I was here, so we have new insurance cards."
There is no tilting up of eyebrows. No facial blushing. No quick look up at you to get a peek at the dyke. Jeffery just asks where her new job is....out of curiosity.
Your hygienist is Sally. She is young and new to the job. You show her your paperwork, have a long talk about what x-rays are needed and which are not.
You were a little worried that there would be the poor cancer girl looks, but....thankfully....Dr. K's staff is well trained. They are kind but not smarmy.
After the tests are run and your teeth are polished up as prettily as several-cups-of-coffee-per-day teeth can look, it is time for Dr. K to come in and talk to you.
She walks in saying, "God, that sucks SOOO bad that the freakin' cancer is back, girl."
This is one of several reasons why you like her. She just cuts right to the chase. She plops down next to you and doesn't try to hold your hand or give you puppy eyes. She looks at you as her peer and tells you straight up that for a 60 year old woman with terminal cancer, your teeth are fucking beautiful.
Sally, who is standing next to Dr. K pipes up.
"I know! I was amazed at how great her teeth are. L, you are a great flosser, I could see that right away. And her teeth barely needed to be cleaned, Dr. K!"
You feel ridiculously proud. In a world where you....medically....fail everything right and left and sideways....you are succeeding here. You have nice teeth. You are a conscientious tooth scrubber. You say this out loud and Dr. K laughs her big, generous laugh.
"You know the secret to having such great teeth?"
You look at her. She grins wickedly.
"Never let the creeps win. Keep on refusing to suffer fools and idiots."
This makes you laugh. It feels good to feel that little bubble finding a rise in your chest.
"Ok, now scoot home and take a nap or go for a walk or read or something," Dr. K says and, finally.....she takes your hand and squeezes it. Once.
"And come back in July for your six month check up....you hear me?"
You nod. There is a lump in your throat. You follow Sally out the door and there is Jeffery with your coat.
"I put it in front of the heater to get warm," he says. "I noticed that you looked a little chilly."
He holds out your coat and you slip into the warmth of it. When he has you tucked into it, he leans downs and whispers, "Stay strong, warrior woman."
You smile, nod, and head out to the car.
This place is not for everyone, but for those of you who belong....it is a perfect fit.
On the way home, you smile at everyone with your perfect teeth.
Comments
Post a Comment