I’ve been having a bit of a “perfect storm” that has prevented me from submitting columns to the newspaper. A health event in our family and a mission trip to Paraguay have kept me out of the coffee shop lately.
But to show you that I have a life outside the coffee shop, I will share a story that relates to real-world events in my “lately” life.
I had a root canal done earlier this week. I’d never heard of an endodontist before my local dentist (good friend, too) referred me to one.
By the way, my local dentist had a bandage on his finger when I was in his office Monday. I asked (like a good friend would do), “What happened to your finger?”
He hesitated and said, “I’m afraid you’ll put this in the newspaper. I was having trouble getting my dental floss container to cut my floss, so I got some scissors, lined them up on the floss and cut my finger.”
I inferred that I would probably not put his story in the newspaper, but, please remember, I’m going through a dry spell. At least I didn’t mention his name.
Now back to the Denton endodontist: He did the root canal in a very painless (though uncomfortable) fashion. I had a block of rubber between my upper and lower teeth on the side of my mouth on which he wasn’t working. I had a sheet of rubber in my mouth that caught all the materials that resulted from the drilling and kept them from going down my throat.
He was a very good guy. His mother is the music ministry assistant for a huge church in Arlington. We have several mutual friends.
After the procedure, I told him the story of a rich Texas oilman who visited his dentist. After the initial look-see, the dentist said, “I don’t see anything that needs attention.”
The oilman said, “Go ahead and drill, Doc! I’m feeling lucky!”
I tell that story and note:
- He is an Aggie.
- He got the joke.
Gerre Joiner is a semi-retired church musician and has lived in Decatur since 1999.