December 6, 2011
I've been getting lots of Christmas cards recently.
Most of them are from orthodontists and oral surgeons.
Since being diagnosed with needing the equivalent of mouth transplant, my daughter has acquired the status of a celebrity. So many people are clamoring to get to know her. I've never had so many people want to be my friend either, at least since we last needed a realtor.
I say this half in jest: most of our closest friends in grad school were training to be some variation of dentist.
The latest X-mas card came with a handwritten note from the dentist himself. "I look forward to seeing you soon!" he wrote with an exclamation point.
The man's enthusiasm for my suffering was extremely offensive and so I threw his card in the trash.
"Get over it," my husband keeps telling me.
That's easy for him to say. He doesn't have to live in the presence of all of the samples.