3/3/10

3/3/10

We took Dad to the dentist yesterday. He was unhappy about going out and kept asking “is this necessary?” the whole way. When we got there, we shared an elevator with an older gay man, on his way to the same dentist, who kept chatting with Dad. When we got to the waiting room, apparently deciding that the waiting people were his audience, he announced, loudly “This is my favorite song!” and then sang a few bars of “Do-Do-Da-Do,” and ended with “etcetera, etcetera.” Everyone in the waiting room laughed. Then the gay man told Dad, “you are so lucky to have such a nice daughter caring for you.” Dad responded, indignantly, “I don't have a daughter!” Everyone, including the ladies behind the desk, froze, wondering what was going to happen next. I suppose they thought I might burst into tears or something, but I just told Dad, calmly, “I'm your daughter, right here!” and tapped him on the shoulder, at which point he said, “Oh, good!” and applauded.

Once they brought him into the dental office, the dentist pulled three of his front teeth on the bottom. It was hardly pulling, actually, he just kind of effortlessly plucked them out and sutured the hole. Aside from one “Shit!”, Dad didn't seem bothered by the process. We brought him home and he went straight to bed. We were all afraid that he would be in pain, but he woke up fine, though he was complaining to Jaelynn that someone stole his teeth.

Somehow the whole thing was harder for me than it was for him. It was like I couldn't stand losing any piece of dad, not even three rotten teeth, and all these feelings came rising up. I kept stuffing them down – couldn't cry in front of Dad, then JD showed up at my office having just been fired, then I had clients . . . finally, on the train on my way home, I opened a book, hid my face, and cried all the way home.