When Kami was little she didn't seem to mind the dentist too much, until she turned eight. That year the dentist found a small cavity in one tooth, and we made an appointment to have it filled the following week. I was only thinking about how much it was going to cost when I took her back. The dental assistant took her back to a room like always, but a few minutes later she poked her head around the door and motioned for me to join the doctor.
"Kami won't open her mouth," he told me seriously.
"Kami, what's the matter," I asked my daughter, walking around to face her. "You know you have to open your mouth so the dentist can fix your tooth."
She gave me a hard look and clamped her mouth down tightly.
I looked at the dentist, he looked at me, and we both looked at Kami.
"Come on, honey," I wheedled. "Please open your mouth. You can't get your treat if you don't let the dentist fix your tooth."
Apparently Kami didn't care about the treat, because she just stared at me obstinately and kept her mouth shut.
The doctor tried, his assistant tried, I tried, but none of us could get that little mouth open.
"I'm sorry, but I think you're going to have to take her to a pediadontist," the doctor told me. "They specialize in this kind of thing."
I was not a happy camper. Our normal dentist cost quite enough, but I was sure a specialist was going to cost a small fortune.
I was right. I called the pediadonist our doctor recommended and made an appointment, but I was not happy about it. We had to go down and have a consultation visit first, and I figured out why it was so expensive. Whereas our regular dentist worked in a simple, conservative office, the pediadontist had a huge, colorful office, complete with a large, over sized aquarium right in the middle of the waiting room, fish covered wall paper, fish decorated scrubs for all the staff, and huge, wall mounted television sets in each corner, playing, of course, Finding Nemo. It was fun, but.......
The pediadontist himself was a little nutty, it was easy to see he was more comfortable with his patients than with their parents, but the rest of the staff were courteous and professional. Kami seemed to enjoy the visit, and we made an appointment for her to have her teeth worked on the following week.
I had to give her a pill an hour before we came to the office on the morning of her appointment, to make her less apprehensive. The dental assistant explained that the doctor was going to put some bubbles in her mouth, (actually a shot of Novocain), and her tooth was filled without any problems. It was just my checking account that felt the pain.
A few days later I was regaling my family with the story when Kami walked into the room.
"Why wouldn't you open up your mouth for the regular dentist?" Kami's big sister, Alyssa, asked her. "You were never afraid to go to the dentist before, where you?"
"No," Kami told her, "not until my primary teacher told us about one time he nearly died at the dentists."
"What?" I asked her. "When did your teacher tell you this story?"
"The Sunday before I went to the dentist," she told me.
So, that was it. I can't say I was very pleased with Kami's primary teacher after that. He may only have been joking around with his class, and he and his wife were really good teachers, but his little story had cost me a great deal of frustration, time, and money. Silly man!
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