Recently, I had to go to the dentist to get two cavities filled. Fortunately, I happen to have a fantastic dentist, and I’m old enough to remember how draconian dental treatment used to be, so now I always have the pleasure of walking away while thinking, “That’s it? Really?” So I wasn’t overly concerned about the procedure.
My dentist’s office is less than a mile from my house, so I can basically roll out of bed and head over there about 10 minutes prior to my appointment and still have time to spare. Even so, apparently my thoughts were already well outside the box (probably because that’s where they usually tend to be).
What follows is the conversation I had with the man before he dove headfirst into my dental procedure.
“Hi Doc! What’s your favorite color?”
Naturally, this question gave him pause. I tend to give people pause quite frequently, but he’s a lot younger than I am (probably young enough to be my son), so he recovered relatively quickly. (His youth is another thing I like about him—he’s likely up on all the latest dental developments, and he probably won’t retire on me before I shuffle off this mortal coil.)
“My favorite color? Uh…”
He took much longer to respond than I expected, which was another point in the plus column, because it showed he was taking me seriously. I was about to tell him not to worry, that it wasn’t a test, when he replied, “It tends to go back and forth between red and green. What’s yours?”
“Lavender. The reason I ask is that it occurred to me on the way over here that even though you’ve been my dentist for years, I actually know very little about you. If we saw each other out of context, like at the grocery store or something, we would probably not even recognize each other. And yet, here I am, offering myself up to have you drill holes in my head, and I’m even going to pay you to do so. And I really can’t think of anyone else on the planet that I can say that about. So that says a lot. But under the circumstances, I ought to at least know your favorite color.”
I could tell he was smiling through his mask, so I added, “And I only live, like, a block or so away, so imagine what I’d have come up with if I had had more time to think about it on my way over here.”
I told him that he probably passes our little free library down the street all the time.
“That’s your house? I know that house. I love little free libraries. What do you like to read?”
I mentioned I was reading biographies of Roman emperors lately, because we just got back from Italy. Then we talked about Italy. He said all he seemed to have time to read these days was dental journals, but he did read to his daughter, and she went to the library every Thursday without fail. I told him that reading to your child was the number one predictor of their future success, and he agreed.
And just like that, we connected on a human level, and I had even more confidence in him than ever before. And you’ll notice we left politics and religion completely out of it without difficulty. Imagine that.
As I was leaving, all drooly because my face was half numb, he also mentioned that he often runs into patients in the grocery store next door, and they never recognize him. I said I’d make a point of looking for him, now. And away I went, with less tooth and less money, but more dental health and more connection. It felt like a fair trade to me.
If you live just south of Seattle and are looking for a great dentist, contact me!
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