“Blessed are they who hold lively conversations with the helplessly mute, for they shall be called dentists.” ― Ann Landers

The year was 1966. I was a tiny five-year-old. I wasn’t in kindergarten since it had not been instituted in our local school yet. If that doesn’t make you feel old, what wouldn’t? As My Three Sons used to say, “Kindergarten hadn’t been invented yet? WOW!!”

I had a toothache. At five years old, it was my first of many more to come, even though I was completely unaware of that fact. Maybe I should say I was thankfully unaware. So, like any good parents, mine took me to the dentist to see about this little bitty piece of dentin and enamel that was causing me so much discomfort.

Surely this dentist, who had a valid license, just made a simple mistake. They happen. But to go from the dentist office, back home, and then end up in the emergency room was a huge mistake to us.

As soon as we arrived at the ER my pediatrician was called, who happened to already be at the hospital. He took one look at me and reacted quickly. I had been bleeding profusely ever since we left the dentist early that afternoon and my parents couldn’t get it to stop. Thankfully, they panicked and took me to the hospital, where my doctor announced that I would have bled to death had they not come. Good to know.

The dentist had pulled the wrong tooth.

My pediatrician picked up the phone and gave him a piece of his mind! I actually do remember this day, even though it seems impossible to remember something that happened to you at the age of five. I vividly remember the dentist visit, the pain, the bleeding and even the ER trauma. I can still see my doctor standing over me, furious that this had happened to such a sweet, tiny, little girl.

That was just the beginning of my dental woes. I don’t remember visiting the dentist much growing up; thankfully I didn’t have many problems. Once I was married, I was introduced to my husband’s family dentist, Doc Boruff as he was lovingly referred to. He was a good friend to the family and my sister-in-law’s mother also worked for him. There was no thinking about it or looking through the phone book, Doc was now my dentist too.

A couple of years into our marriage I totaled The Sweetheart’s little truck and smashed my face pretty good. (You can read that story here!) My front tooth was broken and Doc met me at the office after hours to relieve my pain and make a plan of action to crown the tooth. He was my hero.

Fast forward about four years when my wisdom teeth were giving me fits. Doc told me they needed to come out but only two were pushing through; the others were impacted. He recommended an oral surgeon.

I refused.

No one was touching my teeth except Doc. That scare at the age of five had followed me and I was not a trusting soul. I wanted Doc Boruff to extract my wisdom teeth and I wouldn’t budge.

Doc was also a farmer, a hard-working man who towered over most. I was always amazed that he was a dentist because he had the biggest hands I had ever seen and I had the smallest mouth opening he had ever seen. Removing my wisdom teeth that day, the sweat dripped from Doc’s face and ran down mine. I should never have put him through that. Hindsight, as they say, is better than foresight. I should have gone to an oral surgeon and taken the drugs instead of staring wide-eyed at Doc for hours that day. (I no longer sit in a dentist’s chair with my eyes open, I am sure they appreciate that!)

Naturally, he did a great job and I WALKED four blocks to my grandmother’s house that day and then hosted a bridal shower for my sister that night! (Yes, it did all hit me about halfway into the shower and I thought I would surely pass out into the peach punch from the pain.)

Doc Boruff passed away many years ago and I would not be the only one to say he was the best dentist around. Professionalism and perfectionism were his trademarks but his personality kept you coming back. You just trusted Doc to take care of whatever was causing your pain.

In my 54 years of living, I have spent countless DAYS in a dentist’s chair. I surely could have bought a luxury car with what I have spent, maybe even a house! I have had several dentists down through the years since I have lived in three states and several different cities. I have even been to the dentist in the country of Estonia a couple of summers ago. That was an interesting experience!

When we came back from Latvia in 2012, I was thankfully introduced to my current dentist, Dr. Arnold. After my second visit, I told The Sweetheart that I thought I had found the 21^st century Doc Boruff. Kind, personable and the best at making you comfortable, I have never even thought of going anywhere else. Like Doc Boruff, he doesn’t do anything that doesn’t need to be done, which means so much when you are paying out of pocket.

If you have read this far, you are surely wondering why a faith-based blog is sharing dental experiences! It is because the last few days I have been suffering with my second dry socket.

If you have never experienced this phenomena, believe me, you do not ever want to obtain membership to that club. I had a tooth extracted, but the blood clot, that normally forms to heal, came loose somehow, leaving the bone open and exposed. Saturday morning, my wonderful dentist met me at the office even though they were closed. I had tried clove oil (which truly does help numb the area!) and ibuprofen for the pain, but trust me, it was unbearable. It doesn’t just throb where the tooth was removed, it takes over that entire side of the face, up and down the jaw and into your ear and at one point, I felt it in my eye; truly one of the most uncomfortable experiences ever.

It is healing, albeit slowly, and I am thankful for people who care that you are in pain and for a God who listens in the middle of the night when you think you just can’t stand it any longer…He brings sweet relief and rest even to phantom toothache pain.

Do you have a dental horror story to share? We would love to hear it! (Please do not mention any names if it is not flattering.) Feel free to share the good, the bad and the ugly here today. One of these days I will share the story of me being DROPPED during surgery. If it had to happen, it had to be me!

Be blessed as you start another week and whatever you are facing, know our great God is with you. Always.

Sharing with Soul Survival, Modest Monday, Good morning Mondays