How to Size Ice Hockey Pants
Come to find out, there was a third option.
It seems that — after nearly 30 years of having my teeth scraped, buffed, poked, drilled and filled at the same place — my dentist is retiring. I knew this day would come eventually, but it still came as a bit of a surprise. I had always envisioned myself at 100 years old, lying back with my 120-year-old dentist slumped over me, clicking on the overhead lamp and saying, "OK, let's have a look."
The letter started out by my dentist expressing gratitude for being able to supply my dental needs for all those years. Next, he spent a few paragraphs introducing his new young, ambitious, highly qualified replacement.
I have to admit, the new guy sounds quite competent with his college degrees, experience, military service and humanitarian volunteer missions, but he's not my dentist. The new guy didn't yank out my wisdom teeth, file my first root canal or give me my first gold crown. In fact, the new guy probably wasn't even born when my dentist started filling my cavities.