AWE STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS
Thank You Tooth 31. Part 2: Miracle on the Trip to the Dentist
Thank You, Thank you, Mystery of Life
While driving I turn on the classical radio station KUSC hoping to hear comforting music that will wrap me like a fleece blanket today. The station, which I haven’t listened to in decades except for the occasional catastrophe (not the daily little ones) plays a march.
Not a cheerful march. Not now, while I’m driving an hour and a half on multiple freeways to Little Saigon in Westminster to get an evaluation for a root canal.
I glance at my GPS to get in the right lane. The on-again-off-again GPS isn’t talking to me today. Next, a violin durge plays. (I miss the elegant voice of KUSC’s former DJ Bonnie Grice). I turn the radio down.
I’m glad I’ll get the evaluation on second molar tooth 31 from Dr. Vanthi Pham who used to work in the Faculty Services Clinic at the University of Southern California (USC). Dr. Pham phoned me back to discuss questions I’d left with the receptionist. I like her. She has good, trustworthy vibes.
I can handle anything, right? Part of me is holding on, but I don’t quite feel like myself. My eyes stare wide at the road. My hands clench the steering wheel as if I’m reining in a wild stallion. My breath is held in as if I’m blowing up a balloon but in reverse. My neck and back are on alert like soldiers facing inspection.
I’ve been trying to ignore these feelings I have wrapped tightly in a mix of bravado, fear and control. My denial, despite my grip, is experiencing hairline cracks like those on tooth 31. I feel a large electrical wire inside which is emitting energy, sparking, crackling and might fall. Telegraphic thoughts remind me: Dr. Pham may do a root canal after her consultation!
How will I deal with the pain? It sounds so unnatural (I’ll spare you the details) to fish around in the tooth. But my dentist friend, who has explained dental mysteries to me step by step (thank you Alex!) told me it’s good to save the tooth and the bone under it.
I’ll do a mind-body exercise. I pull my right arm back and over my head (like jumping rope) and bring it down toward the floor of the car. “Hhhwww!!” Primal grunts, not lady-like at all, emerge from my gut. They surprise me.
Though I have had wonderful and good dental experiences before — like the high when I enjoyed getting my wisdom teeth out on Darvon 50 years ago at USC dental school, and the dear, Norman Vincent Peale like dentist Dr. Phillips who used to always say, “I love when a plan comes together!” — a nimbus cloud of fear and indecision pervades the car.
“The Nightmare Before Christmas” atmosphere floats a memory of seeing in my peripheral vision a long needle that was headed towards my face. It diagonally found its target in my cheek. After that another shot. And another. Seven, or so it seemed.
Gloved fingers placed a mask for Nitrous Oxide over my face and large headphones over my ears. Though Nitrous Oxide was a favorite high of an old boyfriend of mine who liked to “explore” in the '70s, and some people respond well to Nitrous, the Beatles songs I heard blared in my mind like a bad LSD trip.
I know there’s a “negativity bias” from when we humans were cave people: we remember the bad more than the good — because we needed to be alert to danger or possibly die. From this archipallium part of my brain, I even remember an odd time in Dr. Phillips’ office.
“I love when a plan comes together,” he said as he placed a medieval contraption that stretched my mouth wide open. I tasted something gummy from another planet and tried to leave my body unsuccessfully.
I turn KUSC, 91.5 FM up again. I’d love to hear the Chopin nocturne my friend Margaret plays. I’ve heard her play its soft and searching melody for small groups of friends and community gatherings. When she plays it, the twinkling notes make me feel like someone understands. They soothe the pain of any challenges I’m going through at that moment.
Right about now, hearing the Nocturne would be like sipping matzoh ball soup. It would change the “Nightmare Before Christmas” atmosphere into the night meal on the Sabbath in my childhood: The challah (yum) under the white, embroidered in gold challah cover (I embroidered it when I was eight) waits to be torn open at the place setting of my father.
The white, silky tablecloth is lit with candles in silver candlesticks. My father raises his arms over my three sisters and me, of different heights, reciting the Priestly Blessing over us.
Gefilte fish with sweet red horseradish after the matzoh ball soup. Fried chicken after that.
“We have a request from Fountain Valley” the KUSC DJ announces. ‘It’s for Chopin’s Nocturne 9, #2.”
What?! Is it the one Margaret plays?!
I hear the beginning familiar notes, yet the timing is different. It sounds like this. Listen in. (Click: here).
Is it the same melody?
It is! They are playing the Chopin nocturne Margaret plays. The one I wanted to hear! How did that happen?!
I listen….
The melody wraps me in a shawl of understanding of my dental fears. As it lilts and falls it serves me matzah ball music. Yet most of all a light has tip-toed into the car.
The Universe is with me! It’s on my side on my dental crusade!
My staring eyelids retract to their normal size. My soldier neck, shoulders, and spine stand down. My shark jaws unclench. My breath finds a passageway into my throat, all the way to my chest, even down to my belly.
Thank you! Thank you Mystery of the Universe!
“Bach is an astronomer, discovering the most marvelous stars. Beethoven challenges the universe. I only try to express the soul and the heart of man.” ― Frédéric Chopin
🎶 To the reader who also will have tooth journeys, Thank you for sharing this experience by reading!! Also much appreciation to joy-seeder Trista Signe Ainsworth who published this series on “Thank You Notes” with rare enthusiasm.