I’m happy to report I walked through the preschool yard today with cries of “Dougie!!!”
Mr. Fading Rock Star is making a comeback! But less happy about the call from my dentist I got just after my preschool music class. “Looks like you need an emergency root canal. In two hours.”
So off I fled and went to an endodontist (out of my dentist’s field). As I settled back, the hygienist asked me if I’d like to watch a movie during the procedure. Really? That’s a first. I was trying to imagine concentrating on Schindler’s List with the drill bit going and decided it would be just a little too weird. Then she asked if I wanted a massage. Really?!! She pushed a button and my dental chair started punching me in the back. Another first. And I am not making this up.
So why stop there? Why not headphones with a selection of books on tape or a Chinese foot massage or maybe a mariachi band? I mean, the possibilities are endless. I could imagine a ukelele lesson, a cooking demonstration or Spanish vocabulary class describing each step of the dental procedure. “Como se dice… OUCH!!!!!!!!”
Let’s face it— the borders between discrete subjects and activities are dropping everywhere. If an i-Phone can take photos, check e-mail and download recipes, why can’t we have a multi-dimensional dental experience? Preferably in a hot tub. In Hawaii. With maragaritas in-between drillings. And hula girls.
At least that’s what I’m hallucinating while coming down from major doses of extra-strength Tylenol. Oh well. At least I have the preschoolers to cheer me up tomorrow.