Daily Grind...

This day found papí following up with the periodontist. The boy came with me to the appointment, as before, but I was ready for some of the possibilities.

When we got there I unbuckled him in his seat, and placed a pillow behind him so that the buckles did not cause discomfort. I fed him in his chair there on the floor. Then a soft hug and a few pats on the back and he went back to the seat. The car seat rocks on a flat surface, and this comes in helpful to mollify the boy when it may become difficult to attend directly to his needs. I left the little seat at my tip-toe distance from the large dentistry chair where I reclined in the midst of the room. This allowed me to reach over and use my toe to rock the boy during the procedure (during which I would become nearly prone).

Today, the work was called 'periodontic root planing.' To begin with, I never really knew the specifics, but just putting the meaning to the words in that phrase could introduce some trepidation into the proceedings.

In action, the procedure uses a certain degree of pain killer, and then the Dr uses ultrasound wands in conjunction with scraping tools in order to clear plaque from deep down under the gums.

So, the assistant gives me a pair of goggles, and an extra large frontal cover (all the way to the waist instead of the usual one that goes over the chest only). She mentioned that water would shoot out of my mouth and that was why.

I spent a few moments more feeding the boy as much as I could without giving him need of burping. He looked up at me with some curiosity at my attire. The food held all the interest for him particularly.

I fed him until his interest waned, and settled into my seat. The Dr, a good sort who patiently awaited his patient's feeding his baby, swept in and soon was situated over the mouth of papí and with his own mask pulled over his throat and up to his glasses. He administered a few shots after topical rubs, and out came the heavy machinery.

The ultrasound wands the Dr wields make a couple of different sounds. I can only imagine that the higher whine comes from the finer implement, while the opposite is true of the slightly lower one.

The Dr spoke to me about various things, while checking with me about how it was feeling at different turns (it was fine but there were a couple of moments, which he soon corrected). And as he spoke, the sounds wafted and pierced the air; water and what-all flying in spray from my gaping maw. From time to time I mumbled an answer or even a question, but naturally I stayed mostly silent.

The boy began to make some noises fairly early on, so I began to rock the chair on the floor as the procedure came along. When the ultrasounds came on, his little voice hummed a little along.

I am familiar with the sound he makes when papí brings out the guitar and sings little ditties for the boy. His reaction comes out just the same. He is no singer at this point, but he wishes to participate with the fun.

Papí forgives him for the irony in this case. His little voice joyously following the ululations of the ultrasound as it literally ground papí's teeth below the gums. God bless the little one.

The procedure wound down, and the Dr and his assistant cleaned up and cleared off. Papí fixed upon the now sleeping boy and I put him back into his stroller for the journey home.

Cheers.