Part of the Blogging A to Z Challenge. I’m blogging every day in April, except Sundays, thematically from A to Z. Find out more here.
Evil Russian Dentist. That’s who my son got the day I decided to try a new dentist in the plan.
Bad mom mistake.
My six year-old’s two adult front teeth were coming in. The problem was that the two baby teeth weren’t falling out. They clung to the new teeth pushing out in a red, swollen mess.
“Ya, need to pull those out.”
“No!” My son cried.
“We numb so it won’t hurt.”
I already had a bad feeling about this angry looking monster and what he was about to do to my son. I begged for it to be over quick.
“See? Now numb?”
Out came the metal. Giant twisted pliers. My son shrunk into his seat. I gripped his hand.
A brutish hand clutched my son’s head. Yank. Blood squirted everywhere. Tears spewed.
“Ya. See? Now the other.”
“No, no!” my son huddled in the chair, wailing. “It hurts.” Red splattered his bib, his chin.
The evil Russian dentist leaned in. “It doesn’t hurt. Stop this nonsense!” He was the spirit of Lenin re-incarnated.
Please. Oh, please let this be over. Escape was near. We would never come back to this hell hole.
The giant held my son’s mouth open as he struggled beneath him. “Ahh. Stop it!” He turned to look at me. “Make him stop.”
His evil assistant grinned wickedly at me, nodding. Partners in pain they were.
“Joshua, last one. It will be over and then we can leave.” I would not cry. Not in front of this beast. And we had to finish this torture. I would never get my son to another dentist if I didn’t finish what had to be done.
The mad man turned to me, shaking his pliers of pain.
“See, mother? This is what you did to your son. You let this happen. It’s all your fault.”
Stunned, I could say nothing, helpless in the prison my son and I were both in.
Yank. Squirt. Wail.
Cotton was shoved into my son’s mouth. Blood seeped through. We clung to each other as we limped out of the lobby. We got in the car. His mouth hung open, a white and red mass protruding obscenely from it. Sad, wet eyes stared at me. Then I lost it. I sobbed and hugged my child.
“So sorry. So sorry,” was all I could blubber out. “Anything you want. Anywhere you want to go. We’ll do it.”
And we sat in that back seat and cried.
Then we went to the toy store.