The Allergist vs The Dentist

The Allergist vs The Dentist

By,

Jennifer E. Miller

“What do you mean you like the dentist ‘way more better’ than me?!” Dr. Reynolds asked Gia Milton.

“The dentist doesn’t poke me all the time!” Gia answered.

Dr. Reynolds was Gia’s allergist. Allergists like to poke and prod their patients. Blood draws, skin scrape tests, and allergy shots were all part of the package. Gia didn’t like it one bit. She was seven, which only complicated matters. Kids are notoriously unwilling to cooperate in these matters.

Gia was looking forward to her dentist appointment the next day. Not only was a visit to the dentist easier, they gave out prizes. Much better than the measly stickers handed out by Dr. Reynolds.

“Here is a copy of her test results, Mrs. Milton,” Dr. Reynolds said to Gia’s mother. We can start allergy shots on her next visit.”

She turned to Gia. “If you got to pick out two stickers, would you like me more than the dentist?”

“Nope,” answered Gia, with extra emphasis on the p. “The dentist lets me pick out a toy. And I get a brand new toothbrush with bubble-gum flavored dental floss. He doesn’t stick me with all those needles either.” A brief pause. “I’ll take two stickers anyway.”

Dr. Reynolds raised her eyebrows as she looked over at Mrs. Milton before leading them to the sticker drawer.

“Hey, I don’t know what to say. You have to up the ante,” said Mrs. Milton.

“I take it she hasn’t had the pleasure of receiving a filling yet?” inquired Dr. Reynolds.

“Not yet.”

Gia selected her stickers, thanked the doctor and they went along their way.

In the car, Gia asked, “Mom, what’s a ‘filling’ that the doctor mentioned.”

“Sometimes people have cavities, or holes, in their teeth. In order to keep them from getting bigger, the dentist cleans the tooth, and then places special material over it. It’s called a filling.”

“So, what’s the big deal?”

“Well, the dentist usually uses a special medicine so the patient doesn’t feel what is happening.”

“Okay…” Gia was confused.

“The medicine has to be given by a shot in the mouth.”

Gia gasped in horror. “Do I have cavities, mom?”

“I don’t know. That’s why everyone visits the dentist. To have their teeth cleaned and check for cavities or other problems.”

“I do not want cavities because I do not like shots!”

“I figured as much,” said Mrs. Milton.

The following morning brought the dentist appointment. Gia skipped into the office with giddy excitement. She was immediately seated in the splendid dentist chair that goes up and down.

“It’s like a carnival ride!” Gia exclaimed.

The hygienist cleaned and polished her teeth with ease. She let Gia pick out her toothbrush; purple this time. They had grape flavored floss with delighted Gia.

“I was getting bored of bubble gum,” she said.

The dentist came in to provide the examination.

“How are you, Gia?” Dr. Connors asked.

“Good. I’m really glad I’m here and not that stupid allergy place. They are always poking me. I told her I like the dentist way more better.”

Dr. Connors perked up, “Really?”

“Yep,” answered Gia, with emphasis on the p. “When do I get my prize?”

“After I examine your teeth. It won’t take long.”

As he tapped and poked her chompers, Mrs. Milton explained how visits to the allergist typically involve getting poked with needles. “She needs skin prick tests, blood draws…the typical stuff kids dislike.”

“I’m thrilled someone actually enjoys coming to see me, Gia.

Dr. Connors carefully checked all her teeth. He let out a disgruntled sigh when he finished. The blue latex gloves snapped as he pulled them off and rose from his stool. A look of disappointment was on his face.

“I’m afraid she’s got two small cavities,” Dr. Connors informed Mrs. Milton.

“Ok,” Mrs. Milton assumed cavities would happen sooner or later. Nearly everyone gets one at some point in their lives.

Gia had a look of dread on her face. She remembered what her mom told her about cavities and a shot in her mouth.

“However,” the dentist continued, “they are so tiny, I believe I can fill them without the need to administer Novocain.”

He turned to Gia and continued. “So there’s nothing to worry about, kiddo. You will come back and see me, I’ll fix your teeth, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Do I have to get a shot in my mouth?” She gave him a cold glare.

He realized Gia hadn’t understood the word Novocain. “No. I think I can do it without the medicine. Then you’ll still like me more than your allergist, right?”

“Yes!” Gia’s eyes light up.

So that was it, thought Mrs. Milton. By skipping the Novocain, he was attempting to keep his approval rating above the allergist.

Gia hopped out of the chair to collect her prize trinket from the treasure box, and back home they went.

The following week Gia returned to Dr. Connors’s chair for the fillings. She felt a little nervous. Could the dentist really do this with the shot? And would the procedure hurt?

“Are you ready?” He asked her.

She sighed. “Yes. Just remember, I like you better than the allergist.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Dr. Connors went to work by first showing and explaining all the tools and gizmos he planned to use. Then he eased her back in the chair to get started.

“Let me know if anything hurts or feels funny, ok, Gia?”

She nodded her head; her mouth full of suction tubes and miniature water hoses.

Everything went smoothly. The drilling didn’t cause any problems and Mrs. Milton believed she even saw Gia smile. He filled the cavities and set the cement will the funny blue light. A few taps on a black piece of paper to check her bite levels and she was all done.

The hygienist brought the treasure box to Gia for another prize. She was beaming with excitement.

As she was carefully selecting her prize, Dr. Connors asked, “How was the experience, Gia?”

“Good. I’m really happy you didn’t have to put a shot in my mouth.”

“Me, too,” he replied.

The pressing question hung in the air.

“So, Gia, do you still like me more than your allergist.”

“Definitely!”

Dr. Connors triumphantly thrust his fists in the air and exclaimed, “Yes!”

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Flash Fiction Friday: No Goofing Off

No Goofing Off

By,

Jennifer E. Miller

A shopping outing with my husband is usually a spectacle equal to that of a whining toddler. He generally doesn’t enjoy shopping, and browsing is out of the question. He likes to stick to a list. Yesterday, however, was an exception.

Tom and I had a few errands to run before picking up our daughter from the bus stop. First we stopped at an electronic store to research new computers. Our second stop was Costco, one of those warehouse club stores, with a small list: granola bars, crackers, allergy medicine, and grapes. I must admit, it’s a headache to shop there. The parking lot is consistently packed, items never seem to be in the same location, and the checkout lines are horrendously long. Tom doesn't shop here often, but he has been subjected to my rants. We pulled into a parking spot about a mile away. As we walked towards the entrance in the midday August heat, he said, “No goofing off. Let’s just get in and out as fast as possible.” Not goofing off meant no browsing. But I forgot how distracting Costco can be to those who don't frequent this establishment.

We grabbed a cart and went in. First we passed the electronics section. I noticed the computers and briefly stopped to price compare them to the electronics store. Tom shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up and get on with the list. We don’t want to be late to the bus stop.”

“Okay, okay,” I complied. The computers will have to wait.

We continued on to the snack section which was only a few feet ahead. I steered around a table with neatly folded jackets.

“I was planning to buy the same granola bars as before is that okay—hey where did you go?” I said to, apparently, myself. I whirled my head around, looking for Tom. I spotted him by the jackets. I pushed the oversized cart back towards his direction. “Find something interesting?”

“These jackets are nice, and only twenty dollars!” he exclaimed. “I need a dressier jacket.”

“Those are medium weight outdoor jackets,” I said.

“No they aren’t, they are too nice to be used outdoors.”

I realized he spends far too much time in rain gear on a boat to understand what a “dressier” jacket actually is.

“When are you going to need a ‘dressy’ jacket? You hate wearing nice clothes.”

“I don’t know, but I suppose I will need one at some point.” He examined the jacket closer, checking out all the pockets and running his hand down the fabric. “Which color do you like better: black or grey?”

I looked at the other choices. “I like the orange one,” I said.

Tom gave me a look of disgust, grabbed a black one, and placed it in the cart.

We turned around to move away from the jackets when I said, “Before I realized you disappeared, I wanted to ask you if the same granola bars were suitable--“

“Whoa!” he interrupted.

A wall of beef jerky stood before us. It’s his favorite fishing snack and he was staring at the biggest selection available. There were jerky sticks, turkey jerky, and individual snack sized. Tom grabbed the latter and added it to the cart with his jacket. With a big grin he asked, “What were you saying?”

“You want the same granola bars or a different kind?” I scowled as I led him over to the choices.

He selected the same lemon bars I purchased before. Finally, something in the cart off the list.

We zipped across to the pharmacy area and I grabbed allergy medicine and moved on to the cracker aisle. Damn you, Costco, for placing chips next to the crackers!

“Oh, hey, I need chips. We are almost out at home.” He ventured through the chip selection and was disappointed in the available varieties. It was taking him a several minutes to decide and I grew impatient.

“I can get those when I do the regular grocery shopping in a couple days,” I suggested, hoping to speed up our progress. He already spent extra time on the jacket and beef jerky after scolding me for spending 17.2 seconds looking at computer prices.

“No. We’ll run out by then. I’ll pick something here.”

I reminded him that as we entered the store he wanted to simply get in and out as quickly as possible. His selective hearing disability must have acted up again because he ignored me.

Finally, he chose the individually sized variety package. I grabbed the package of Goldfish crackers from the list and we continued. I tried to take a shortcut through the housewares to get to the produce department, but I wasn’t cunning enough. He found them. The things that take up all the time in Costco. I should have known better. I was foolish not to anticipate it.

“Check out all the samples today!” he beamed.

Perhaps it was best I leave him while I finish shopping and get to the bus stop. After all, no goofing off. 




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Flash Fiction Friday: Toots and Farts

Toots and Farts

By,

Jennifer E. Miller

      Kids have the most ridiculously uncensored minds. I was getting Gia (seven years old) ready for bed. She finished her shower and I was helping her brush her teeth, when she let a loud one rip.

I said, “You tooted! Excuse you!” In a few seconds, the aftermath presented itself. “Whew! And it’s stinky!” I pinched my nose and flipped on the fan. It spun to life as is desperately worked to expel the lingering flatulence.

She giggled with a silly guilty grin across her face. We finished brushing her teeth and she paused thoughtfully as we transitioned to flossing. She took this moment to tell me with wide mischievous eyes, “Mom, guess what? Sometimes when I’m taking a bath, I fart in the water!” Her hands flew over her mouth but more giggles escaped.

I gasped. “What?! Ladies don’t do that!”

She released her hand and said, “Yah. And when I do it, it makes bubbles! I can make a bubble bath with my farts. Isn’t that cool?” She threw her hand over her mouth again and resumed giggling.

I bellowed with laughter. How can a discussion about a fart-induced bubble bath not bring gargantuan belly spasms?

She continued, “I only do it when Daddy gives me a bath. He says he knows all about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, but I told him, ‘I bet when you do it, it makes the water all stinky.’”

I can’t believe our conversation has developed into this. By now my stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

“I’m telling you about it, cause I know you know nothing about this subject.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She switched to a slightly more serious tone. “Because ladies don’t do that sort of thing; you just said so.” She put her hand to her chest, held her nose slightly upwards, and closed her eyes as she spoke. I think she was trying to sound refined, but it was only getting my giggles going again. Luckily, I stifled them.

“You know, you are a lady, and you just admitted to tooting.”

Her hands quickly molded into fists and moved to her hips as she furrowed her brow slightly.

“No, I’m a kid. I won’t qualify as a lady for a few more years. By the way, tomorrow, instead of a shower, I’d like a bath please.”




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Overnight In Paradise

Sunset at Quinn's Hot Springs, Paradise MT 08/05/16

This year was our 15th wedding anniversary. Like everyone says, time flies and it's hard to believe I've put up with T for that many years (ha ha ha). He surprised me with an overnight getaway to Quinn's Hot Springs Resort in Paradise, Montana.

I must back up a little to about a week before our departure when I sprained my calf. (It was evaluated by two different doctors to rule out other ailments.) I have no idea how it happened. Not knowing is irritating because I don't know how to prevent it again. Away we went to Montana, me hobbling along on my leg. The drive was only about two and a half hours from home, and anyone who has driven the stretch of I-90 through north Idaho into western Montana knows the beauty it holds.

Quinn's Hot Springs straddles MT HWY 135 in an area nestled between the mountains. The resort, lodge, restaurant, and hot springs are on the east side with cabins along the Clark Fork River on the west. We stayed in one of the cabins facing the river. What a treat! It was a luxurious cabin with a porch swing, fireplace, wine and snacks, and a fancy bathroom that occupied about a third of the cabin's square footage. We enjoyed relaxing on the swing and watching the river flow, which may sound boring, but we watched an eagle glide directly in front of us over the water. We could see his eyeballs, he was so close! An osprey soon followed suit. Once in a while a fish leaped out, leaving behind a ring of ripples. Berry bushes buffered the cabin from the river and bunnies frequently hopped out to grab a bite to eat. We enjoy wildlife and hoped more species would wander through the area, but these summed it up. It's okay, we'll take it!

Next was to check out these mineral hot springs. A cluster of pools with various temperatures contain the pumped-in mineral hot spring water. The temperatures change multiple times per day, but generally are about 106, 104, 102, 100, 95, 72 degrees Fahrenheit. They contained silica, sulfate, sulfur, calcium, magnesium, sodium, potassium, and iron. Each one has it's own therapeutic benefit and felt quite soothing on my sore leg. Something we noticed about the hot springs pools versus a chlorine swimming pool, is that people moved slower at a peaceful, easy pace; even the children and teenagers! There must be something to this mineral bathing business after all.

We took a break to eat dinner at the resort's restaurant and hopped back in the pools afterwards. That's when the storm arrived. Per policy, guests have to evacuate when there's visible lightening. Once it ceases for fifteen minutes we can return. While we waited for the storm to pass I snapped the above photo with my phone. Lightening brings empty pools, but beautiful Montana sunsets!

I loved the surprise getaway in Paradise. Planning even a small trip on his own is not typical of T, and I appreciate he went out of his way for us. It was relaxing and nice to get out of town. Here's to 15 years and counting.




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Flash Fiction Friday: The Bookcase

The Bookcase

By,

Jennifer E. Miller

The bookcase stood against the wall in the waiting room. It was small, only two shelves, and coated with a chestnut stain. There was an aluminum monogram letter C mounted on the wall above it. On the floor to its left was a pottery urn with branches of pussy willows pointing up like spears. A single vase with artificial hydrangeas adorned the top shelf, along with a sign that said “A smile is the prettiest thing you can wear.” Only the bookcase didn’t feel pretty. It couldn’t smile. It was empty.

The bookcase longed for books. In its last home, it was crammed with magnificent stories. Their pages telling tantalizing tales of far off places, adventures, biographies, and even children’s stories. Thousands of pages of excitement lined up, to be read over and over again. Oh how the bookcase loved when the people came to it! Their warm hands over its wood, the oil from their skins smearing the chestnut stain along the edges, the creak in the floor as they walked away with a new adventure in hand. It brought the bookcase immense joy to hold the wonders that unlocked imaginations.

People surrounded the bookcase, squatting down to study the available options, selecting the right one to suit their moods. “Which one shall I read today?” “Oh! This is my favorite!” “I’ve heard of this title.” The reader gently ran their hand over the line of books, waiting for the energy to stop their index finger over the one, tapping it with anticipation. They leaned the top corner out first, then finished sliding the book from its resting place. Disturbed dust swirled and sparkled in the afternoon sunrays that filtered in through the window’s sheer curtains. A vertical empty shadow remained on the shelf. If a thick book was removed, sometimes the adjacent books fell over, tapping their neighbor. When more than one book was removed, the bookcase was left with empty spaces, like missing teeth. But it didn’t mind because this was the bookcase’s purpose; to house books and stories for all to enjoy.

Unread books intrigued people to return. The satisfied readers replaced the finished books and selected another. Sometimes they took a break, leaving the books to sit and enjoy each other’s company. It was rare all the books sat on the bookcase at once. When they gathered together, it was like a party. Each book talking to one another and altering their story. When the reader picked up a book a second time, it wouldn’t be quite the same story as before.

Soon the number of books increased and no room was left for them to stand side by side. They were placed on their sides, over the top of the vertical ones. They were placed on top of the bookcase. They piled on the floor next to the bookcase, hugging it. They overflowed, but the bookcase was happy with its growing family. It was more joy to bring the people.

One day, the books were taken away. Voices, belonging to the readers, chimed excitement of a larger space to hold their personal library. The bookcase was wiped clean and moved aside. The bookcase watched, heartbroken, as a new larger shelf unit was the replacement. It was sturdy, stark white, and clean. The bookcase wondered how long before the new unit was covered in finger stains or rings of coffee. The sun filtered through the sheer curtains onto its bottom two shelves, which occupied the same space as the bookcase. The shelf unit now had the job the bookcase loved and cherished.

The novels, nurtured by the bookcase all those years, were placed in their new home. Their tears of homesickness couldn’t be seen by the people, but the bookcase noticed. It desperately wanted to comfort them, but was helpless. It shed some tears of its own. The separation was difficult.

And so the bookcase was transplanted to its new location; an office waiting room. The decorations and adornments were pretty, but they didn’t satisfy the bookcase. Many people, potential readers, walked past but never stopped. It sat empty with nothing to offer. Flimsy reading materials sat on a low table in front of chairs; the bookcase longed for volumes of any story to hold and nurture once again. To bring wide-eyed joy to many more readers. To collect dust, be scuffed, and touched. It hoped that happened soon. It wanted to wear a smile and be pretty.

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller