The childhood I’m harking back to belongs to our children. John and I did things we would have done 25 years ago, namely taking a child to the dentist. Son John $ was in such pain that his dad drove him to the dental school clinic in Sylva, the only place one could get treatment on a Friday in Western North Carolina. John knew the way, since that’s where he was treated for a broken tooth when we first moved here.
I was talking to the lawn guy Adam in the driveway, when father and son returned from Sylva. Poor $ hobbled with his cane to the front door and disappeared inside. He’d hurt his knee on a hiking trip, but as he said, that helped mask the pain in the jaw. I didn’t have a conversation with him until the next day when I found out he’d had three teeth extracted. No wonder he could only grunt that day! It seems a wisdom tooth decided to move, cracking the tooth next to it. They removed those, as well as the other wisdom tooth. Full mouth x-rays revealed a similar problem on the other side – a wisdom tooth waiting in the gum like a time bomb.
The dental fallout was in my f
avor. $ stayed from Friday to Monday morning, cooking Mother’s Day dinner on the grill. What a feast! He prepared coconut shrimp, filet mignon, grilled asparagus, and mashed potatoes. We ate so much we just sat about napping and chatting the rest of the day.
