The Dentist and The Monkey

Well, as it turned out, the dentist was pretty non-traumatic. I sat in the waiting room longer than I sat in the dentist’s chair. I wish every dental endeavor were that quick and simple.

I think I’ll stay on the dental theme.

When I was a young boy, Frank was my best friend. From the time I was 2 until I was 6-7 Frank went everywhere with me. He never left my side. Frank was (and is) a red and yellow stuffed monkey with denim overalls and (for his first couple of years) a matching hat.

As I mentioned yesterday, I spent a lot of time at the dentist as a child. Every moment I sat in the dentist’s chair, Frank sat beside me. He offered comfort and support when I was scared. He offered solace when I was in pain. He helped me relax when I was anxious.

One visit was going to be more involved than usual. I had a few cavities and they all had to be filled. I sat in the waiting room nervously scanning the “find the differences” pictures in Highlights. Frank scanned with me. I flipped through the sample Illustrated Bible Story Book always present in Dr. Sizemore’s waiting room. Frank skimmed along with me.

Finally I was called back. I clutched Frank close to my side as I walked to the exam room. The dental assistant lifted me into the chair. I squeezed Frank tighter. She asked me about Frank. “What’s his name? Is he nervous? What does he like to do?” Her banter didn’t ease my apprehension.

Finally she laid me back in the chair and placed the paper bib across my chest. She tried to take Frank.

“Let’s put him over in this chair.”

“No!”

I wrapped both arms around my friend. We would go through this torment together. All for one…and so forth.

The dentist came in and the assistant picked up one of my least favorite things. The gas mask. A large, hollow nose shaped rubber cone with tubes entering and exiting each side. Apparently she noticed me shy away. Her face softened.

“You don’t like the gas?”

I shook my head.

“What about Frank? Does he want some?”

I looked at Frank. I shrugged, looked at him again. Then I nodded.

She placed the mask over Frank’s face. Several seconds later, she removed it.

“Ready now?”

I was.

She placed the mask over my nose. I held my breath as long as possible. My lungs began to ache. Finally, I inhaled. I smelled the familiar, sickly sweet odor of nitrous oxide.

The dentist and his assistants continued milling around the room preparing for the procedure. Instruments were prepared. Amalgam mixed. The gas began to work on my nerves. I began to relax. My arm relaxed and Frank slipped a little. I adjusted my grip and moved his head closer to my face.

I became aware of movement around me. The room was dark, but the light was growing. I realized my eyes were closed. I’d fallen asleep. Voices around me changed from murmurs to intelligible conversation. I heard my name.

“Scott. Scott, wake up.”

I noticed something missing. I tried to speak.

“Fffwwenng?”

She continued saying my name softly. As my consciousness continued to return, I noticed what I was missing.

“Fffrrrenng?”

“What? What do you need?”

“Fffrraanng.”

Frank was gone. I tried to sit up, but my body was not ready to cooperate. My hands searched the chair furiously. The assistant trying to wake me was not the same who had brought me to the exam room.

“What is he looking for?”

“FFRRAANNKK!”

Finally I heard a familiar voice. She knew Frank. She told the new voice about Frank. My eyes were open now. My body began to cooperate. I raised my head and shoulders off of the chair. The two dental assistants searched for Frank.

My brain entered panic mode. “Someone stole Frank!” Time began to crawl. I imagined an evil child darting into the room when all eyes were turned. He grabbed my friend and ran from the building. Now he was somewhere outside. Probably cutting him open. Removing his stuffing. Or letting his dog chew Frank’s denim legs. My poor Frank.

I spent what seemed like a lifetime imagining and mourning the worst possibilities.

“Here he is.”

I opened my eyes to see the assistant holding Frank above my chest. I grabbed him and hugged him.

He hugged me back. Falling to the floor can be traumatic.