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On Sunny Lane: The Old Order Changeth

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I went to the dentist a couple of weeks ago to have some teeth filled.

Two small fillings once in a while is about normal for someone who is not, necessarily, fastidious about her oral care. My care is much better than it was when I was 18 years old, though, when I went to a new dentist with an abscessed tooth—on my birthday, no less.

As a child, I was not encouraged to take good care of my teeth. As a result, when I began a program to treat my teeth, the x-rays and exam revealed that I had 38 cavities! Needless to say, the dentist and I got to know each other well over the course of the next year.

He said he had just recently been discharged from the military, where he had practiced dentistry. His equipment appeared to be state of the art. Of course, I had nothing with which to compare it.

I began to take better care of my teeth—brushing them after each meal with a quality toothpaste. I went for regular checkups. Life, at least my dental life, was good.

I figured that my dentist, if he had just retired from the military, and had served for 20 years, must have been approximately 40 years old when I first enlisted his services. He became my primary care dentist. In fact, he was my only dentist all through the years.

One day, as I was passing by his office, I started to mentally add up the years that we had been working together on keeping my teeth in good working order. It had been 50 years! I made a mental note to call him on my birthday and wish him a happy anniversary—which I did.

Then I began to add up the years of his age, as I estimated them to be. I figured he must have been about 90 years old! I didn’t have the nerve to ask him if that was true and I couldn’t coax the information out of his receptionist.

He was still working, though, and I still went to him a couple of times, until I married Sweetheart and moved too far away to go to him any more. I did drive past his office once and the sign advertising his practice was down.

The last time I availed myself of his services, he was still using the same equipment I saw in his office the first day I went into his office. It was showing signs of wear, but still working—except for one time. He was drilling on one of my teeth when the drill stopped working. Not to worry. He took me into another treatment room and used equipment that appeared to be older than what he had been using.

I miss my old dentist. But I have a new dentist. She uses new state-of-the art equipment and she does a fine job. In the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson, “The old order changeth, yielding place to new.”

I’m glad I have someone to take my old dentist’s place.

Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or send a comment by emailing her at dorothybutzknight@gmail.com


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