The Case of the Magnanimous Dentist

My aunt, the last living member of her generation in my family, recently had to go to the hospital. During the course of a routine, scheduled procedure–not an emergency!–they managed to knock out her two front teeth. The doctor’s reaction was, “Oh, well, at her age she didn’t really need them, did she?”

We’re trying to get this put right. Just because you’re 85 years old, and had a stroke which made you bed-bound and unable to chew or swallow food, doesn’t mean they get to knock your teeth out and not have to make it up to you.

I had to go see my aunt’s long-time dentist today, to show him my official power of attorney and to demand her dental records. His name is Dr. Oliver, and this is what he said:

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this case. You see, I’ve known your aunt (and her sisters) for so long, and I know the hospital is going to give you a hard time over this. So I want to do the work, fix your aunt’s teeth–and I’ll send my bill to the hospital. Believe me, I am familiar with her situation, and I think this is what has to be done. I can’t just let her stay like that.”

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. I rarely encounter that kind of magnanimity in real life. It brought tears to my eyes. (I seem to be turning into the most awful kind of softy–not good for my alpha male image, but I can’t help it.) Those of you who are given to prayer, ask for a blessing on Dr. Oliver.

I wonder if there’s any way I can get this morning bronzed and mounted.