Daisy Friedman

Daisy Friedman's work has appeared in The Paris Review and elsewhere. She lives in New York City.

DENTIST

I go through dentists the way some people update resumes. Each new dentist represents a chunk of my life. I heard about the three dentist brothers from a Bennington art teacher named Vladimir. They allowed him to pay in paintings. A lot of artists went to the dentist brothers: Matt, Arthur, and Sam, open to bartering, conveniently located in SoHo back when SoHo was the center of the New York art world, and near my office at the time. Why I changed dentists again had much to do with those three brothers not administering laughing gas. All three with their long gray hair look like pot smokers. When Dr. Sam told me I needed a root canal (he planned to send me down the hall to his brother Dr. Arthur the endodontist) the lack of gas became a salient point and an issue for me. By now not getting gas was like being with a lover who snores. I was willing to put up with this flaw because I admired them for the trades and family spirit. But no nitrous oxide? I endured the root canal without N2O. It was the second-to-last straw. The final breakup took place on a very hot July morning. Just a routine cleaning which for me includes removing coffee and cigarette stains. No one phoned to let me know the Calvitron ultrasonic scaler was broken, essential to my getting a proper cleaning. Had it not been such a sultry day and had I not rushed to get there on time, I might have let it go. The dental hygienist Angel was familiar with my needs. He or someone should have called to cancel. They offered to reschedule; I requested my chart. It was all a bit awkward, but at least dental x-rays are small and easy to carry. When asking around, I learned that lots of people like their dentist. Now I see Dr. Fried, the dentist of our friend Chris the literary agent. I can’t help but feel grateful. When I’m deeply inhaling and ascend above myself, watching myself, loving myself, at that exact moment, everything (yes, I mean everything!) seems possible.