November 10th, 2025
I took Asher to see the dentist on Saturday afternoon. I had been dreading the visit. Asher is not quite five years old, and he still has his baby teeth. At his last check up, his regular dentist found a tiny cavity in between his two upper front teeth. She recommended that Asher see a pediatric specialist to deal with the cavity. This was the first cavity that Asher ever had, and I was worried about how he would behave if the pediatric dentist needed to drill. The possible challenges were daunting. Asher had already been upset and unhelpful during a simple cleaning, so I was a bit on edge.
We got to the office of the pediatric dentist on time, but we had to wait for almost an hour. I asked the receptionist about the delay, and she told me that they had a couple difficult patients that day. Asher ran around the office area. He was bored and restless. That did not bode well. Asher really did not want to be there, and I didn’t either.
When we finally were taken into a back room by a dental hygienist. She got Asher into the chair. Then she went about getting x-rays for his teeth. I was relieved to that Asher did what the hygienist needed him to do without complaint. She had given him a toy (a little plastic digger truck) at the very outset of the visit and had promised him another one if he behaved. That tactic seemed to work well.
She took her pictures and then left to help the dentist in the adjoining examination room. He was working with another young patient. Asher sat in the dentist chair and stared straight ahead.
Another dental assistant came in to do some computer work while we waited for Dr. Mohamed to finish the job next door. As Asher and I waited, we listened to some ungodly wailing coming from the adjoining room. The kid was not having a good time. We could hear the dentist plead, nay beg, the child to relax and settle down. I heard the dentist, who is apparently a man of nearly infinite patience, tell the kid,
“Please bite down on this! Let me do my job!”
The child’s response was a long, intense, high pitched screech. I thought to myself,
“Sweet Jesus, what the fuck are they doing in there?”
I looked at Asher. He was sitting in the chair absolutely stone faced.
I asked him, “Are you okay?”
He replied, “Yes.”
“Uh, you’re looking kind of serious.”
“I’m okay. I just don’t want to move my head.”
I tried to ask Asher something else, but the crying from the other room was overwhelming. I couldn’t hear him answer me.
I told Asher, “I can’t hear you with all the screaming.”
The dental assistant snickered, and said, “Sorry about the noise. The patient isn’t being very cooperative.”
“Is that a professional hazard?”
“Oh yeah.”
Finally, Dr. Mohamed came into our room. He was a tall man with dark curly hair. He smiled at Asher. Asher smiled back. The dentist examined the x-rays and then he had Asher open his mouth so he could look at his teeth.
Asher was very cooperative.
The dentist told me that the cavities (there were actually three small ones) did not penetrate the enamel. This being the case, he could apply a sodium fluoride gel that protect the teeth and avoid any drilling and filling. He advised me that the gel would stain the teeth black. Fine. Whatever. They’re baby teeth and they will come out in a couple years, so I told him to do it. He went on to tell me that Asher should brush, floss, and avoid sweets. We can do that. We set up an appointment for his next cleaning.
At the end, the hygienist gave Asher another little toy as the last part of the bribe to keep him calm during the exam. The dentist seemed happy and relieved that Asher was good during the visit. The man appeared to be emotionally exhausted.
Asher spent the ride back home arguing with me about how often he could eat gummy worms.
Frank is Emptiness 