Tooth #20

Arghhh! More toothache. As much as I want to think it will clear up by itself, I know I have to have it looked at, and I shouldn't delay. Another day at the dental ER is not my idea of a good beginning to the week. Besides, I am sure it will have to be pulled, a third tooth in less than two weeks. Pooh.

I am at a low point. How many teeth will I end up losing? After all I have been through, I am not ready for another battle. I prefer some time to recuperate first, but I am not offered that option. OK. Lord? Can you help me get through this? I can't do it. I'm just worn out. No reserves left.

A pleasant young man calls my name and I follow him to a small room. He asks about my sweatwshirt that proclaims "Northeastern Seminary." Turns out, his aunt and uncle, whom I know well, work at RWC and he was a student there, an art major, back in the day. We chat happily about Roberts and faith and connections and pottery.

My dentist is thorough, but I soon realize that she doesn't have a lot of experience with pulling teeth that are in my teeth's condition. She is confident that she can handle it just fine, but the supervising dentist comes in. I am not the run of the mill mouth. The assistant and I agree - I will hold my mouth open and he will pray that it comes out quickly and easily with no complications. I can see in his eyes that he is confident that the overseeing dentist is excellent and it should be just fine.

The experienced dentist, a short dark haired gentleman, and the new dentist, a young Asian woman, look at my xray. Tooth # 20. The root is bent. The top is fragile. It will have to be handled gently. They discuss process, then begin. First she works on my tooth, then he takes her hands to guide her, talking all the while. Before too many minutes, he takes the tool himself.

The assistant very graciously reaches over and holds my hand. I know he is praying. I almost giggle when it dawns on me that God heard my prayer for help and sent a comrade in arms to be with me. I suddenly feel the strength of God, the encouragement of knowing that even if I wasn't prepared for this part of the journey, God is with me, providing his ability to get me through. Now its three against two - better odds. I trust this young man I just met, we are brother and sister in Christ. He knows the skinny, and will be up front with me, I am sure.

She pulls with the pliers. Nothing. He takes the tool and with one swift motion it is out. He holds the bloody thing in the air in front of my face, showing the angle and how to work with it just so while she nods her head. Please! Put that thing down! Bite the gauze, go over the familiar instructions, and voila! Wobbling back to my car and heading home. Sigh. Sure hope that's the last one for awhile. I still need a break.