Elephant in the room

This will come as a shock, but even in the halcyon days before Covid, going to the dentist was never on my short list of favorite things. It ranked slightly above getting a colonoscopy and just below hearing the Facts Of Life theme song.

But ask anyone who knows me, and right after they stop laughing they’ll tell you I’m nothing if not an overachiever. And because I am, unlike mere mortals I need to have my teeth cleaned three times a year instead of the usual two.

One of those appointments came up back in May. My dentist’s office called to ask if I was going to be comfortable coming in, and I assumed she was asking because of Covid and not my usual bad attitude towards having a strangers hands messing around in my mouth.

I told her, for both reasons, I was not.

So we postponed the appointment a few months, even though I knew full well because I was missing it the next cleaning was going to involve x-rays, extra scraping, maybe a transfusion and definitely smelling salts.

When it came time to face the music last month, I was still apprehensive because of Covid, but I also didn’t want my teeth to wind up looking like Austin Powers’.

As I arrived I was relieved to see my dentist was following strict Covid protocols. I couldn’t just walk in, I had to call from outside and let him know I was there.

Once inside, I had to answer a short questionnaire, using a clean pen, and then had my temperature taken. I was walked back to the hygienist’s area and directed to the chair. That’s when I saw it: the elephant in the room.

The rather unattractive piece of technology you see up top here is referred to as The Elephant. It’s an industrial grade air filter that sucks the air down the tube before any particles of anything have a chance to go anywhere—like into your nose or mouth.

They placed it literally a quarter inch from my mouth. It was extremely loud but strangely reassuring (just like my high school girlfriend).

My hygienist was wearing two masks, gloves and a face shield. She also pointed out that of the two of us, she was the one more in danger of being exposed to something since my yap was wide open the whole time.

Anyway, the Elephant did a swell job, and I left the office without catching anything except a case of pearly whites. My next daring deed will be masking up and returning to my acupuncturist.

For a long list of reasons, I’m hoping there are no needles called The Elephant in his office.

The always waiting room

Since my four-month gig working on a Japanese car brand (starts with an M, ends with an A) ended last Friday, I decided to take this short week off and catch up on some things that needed doing.

One of those was running my beautiful daughter to a couple doctor appointments. I always jump at the chance to do it, because my girl is pretty smart and extremely funny, and there are few things I enjoy as much as getting the chance to spend quality time with her whenever I can.

I just didn't know we were going to have that much time together.

Yesterday I took her to the eye doctor. Now, me being me, I don't go to just any doctor. I always look for The Guy. Our eye doctor is one of the top guys in the country, so just getting in is an accomplishment.

Her appointment was for 10:30 a.m. And since I'd rather be an hour early than a minute late, we were there around 10:20. We waited patiently in the waiting area as other people got called in. About 11:00 a.m. they came out and then made the psyche move you've seen so many times in doctors' offices. They called her in, and we thought the appointment was going to happen. But they brought her into a room, where an intern or nurse or assistant or someone gave her a quick vision test, then directed us to wait in another badly decorated waiting room.

At 11:30 I went to the front desk and in my nicest, most charming, impatient voice said we'd been there an hour and did they have an ETA on her seeing the doctor.

She was next in line, and about ten minutes later she finally got in to see The Guy.

Today, she had an appointment at 3 p.m. for a problem she's been having with her wrist. She played volleyball for a few years, and has had a some injuries to her hands and wrist. Her current pain is a souvenir from those days.

Her hand and wrist doctor also happens to be The Guy in his field. Directions they provide include how to get there from LAX, where people from all over the world fly in to see him.

Virtually the exact same thing happened - into another room, an assistant asking some questions, and then made to wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, an hour and ten minutes after the appointed time, he breezed in, said sorry about the wait, and proceeded with his brief exam.

I understand the top people are in demand, and a little waiting is to be expected. But how many bad schedulers can there be in the same city? Color me old fashioned, but isn't the idea of an appointment to get there at a time convenient to you? And doesn't waiting over an hour after that time defeat the purpose of making an appointment in the first place?

Naive I know.

All this waiting does at least give me a chance to use a line I like to use when I ask how long it'll be. I go up to the desk and ask, then I say "I had black hair when we came in here." If you knew me, you'd know how funny that is (hashtag Silver Fox).

Anyway, doctor visits are done for a while now, and what with school and her social life I probably won't get to spend as much quality time with my girl as I'd like. But at least I know she'll still make time to talk with me every day.

"Dad, can I borrow your car?" and "Do you have a twenty?" counts as talking, right?