I almost always love going to the dentist. Honest -- at
least when it’s just for a cleaning, no Novacain, no drilling.
But today’s was an unexpected mini-vacation.
For the first time in 25 years as a patient of Dr. Andy
Levine, the dental hygienist escorted me to a second-floor room. I didn’t even
know they had treatment rooms on the second floor.
I lay back (laid back? layed back? I can never get that
right) in the chair, bib on, mouth open, eyes closed.
“You know what would make this almost perfect?” I said to
Peggy, the hygienist. “If this were a massage chair.”
“You want me to turn it on?” she asked.
Jackpot. A refreshing scraping of the teeth, a half hour of noontime
peace and quiet, and a subtle back massage.
Yes, a massage at the dentist’s office.
Dr. Levine has been holding out, darn him.
“You know what would make this perfect,” I said, still
reclining. “A pedicure.”