Crown Repair, January

This month, I am taking part in an inspirational creative experience called Winter Art Camp, organized by my friend (and amazing writer) Brianne. It is a month of gathering to reconnect to our creative work, to post our work and support each other in our explorations. I highly recommend you check it out.

Today’s draft is inspired by Winter Art Camp, by the kinds of poems and stories people share in that space. (And by a recent visit to the dentist.)

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedAll the schools have gone onlinethis bitter cold week –the first in years,the receptionist assures me,it hasn’t been like this in five years, at least.Next week will be better.I unwrap myself from scarves and coatssmelling faintly of the recessesof closets from three different homesin warmer climates.Emerged, I sit in the waiting dentist chair.Immediately, my body shakesfaint but uncontrollable.Every nerve releases memories of dentists across fifty years,all the way back to the thick-fingered doctorholding me stillwhile he wedged his bare fingers between my cheek and loosened baby teeth.Today the dentist – small and quick and loud –gently holds my lower jaw in one handgives a shot with the other,“Do you have redheads in your family?” she says“It’s proven redheads are hard to numb.”A cold lines of novocaine travels through the nerve.She nods and leaves the roomurging me to walk aroundto help the numbing.My body shakes, remembering.Three shots and an hour laternumb enough, not completely,she rushes to replace the crown,quietly efficient.I try not to flinch orlet the pressure in my throatremind me of the time I almost choked to death.Air and water on the exposed tooth createnot pain, exactly,more like surprise, a shock of indignation,a nerve disturbed –it has lived its life protected by enamel after all.I clutch my left hand in my right.I will be fine.I will be heldI will be warmas soon as this is over.A shock of air makes my eyes water,a tear reaches the dentist’s pink-gloved hand.“Are you okay?” she asks.I relax my hands.I feel it all, I say,It’s okay.