I’ve been walking through a dark valley lately. It’s been hard to smile these days.
So I was glad for a recent dental appointment. It was a relief to walk into a place not named “hospice” and to know my dentist would put a smile on my face.
He always does.
He once told me he’d never retire because he loves his work too much. He’d miss it. Which wasn’t quite right. For him it’s never been about the teeth. It’s always been about the people in the chair.
He welcomes each of us as a brother or sister.
He makes us feel important. He remembers who we are and what we do. He remembers our kids, their names, their sport, their band instrument, and (if we’ve got any) our grandkids, pets, and sorrows.
He’s cheerful and playful. Give him just five words from any rock song from the ’60s and ’70s and he’ll tell you the title. Instantly.
All my teeth, north and south.
“Moonshadow,” by Cat Stevens.
Places I remember.
“In My Life,” by the Beatles!
Winter, spring, summer or fall
“You’ve Got a Friend,” by Carole King
(See what I mean?)
And then suddenly he catches himself, notices the bib around your neck, and remembers he’s a dentist.
Well, as long as you’re here, would you like me to look at your teeth?
You can see why I was happy to see my dentist last week.
I settled into The Chair of Great Consolation. He came in and plopped onto a stool. He was not smiling.
(He’s not smiling!)
I’ve got some sad news, he said.
(Oh, my god. Please, no!)
What sad news?
This will be our last session.
(He’s terminal!)
I’m retiring.
WHEW.
I can live with that. Not happily, but I will. It’s a shock. It hurts. But it’s better than death.
So I will not cry or complain.
I will not be like the mother who cried out to God to save her son who’d been swept far out to sea. She pleaded with the heavens. And suddenly a large wave arose and washed her son, alive, onto the shore.
She ran and hugged him. Then she stopped, looked at his head, looked up to the heavens, and yelled: Hey, he had a hat!
Yes, I’ve lost my dentist. But I’ve still got a friend.
And I’m smiling.
* * *
You are so right on! Brian is one of those icons who have made Shepherdstown the kind of place you want to live. Besides which, he tells great jokes and stories. I’m still chuckling.
Pat, I think back to our conversation at the writers retreat about our stellar dentist/friend.
A fun sharing of favorite people, places, and writers!
It’s more like losing a friend we know we’ll see twice a year, instead of losing just a dentist. Brian will still be in Shepherdstown but going to a dentist will never be the same. He cares about every patient and no one will ever be as slick with a needle as Brian. You never see it or feel it coming. Both of our sons moved from Shepherdstown, but they make the trek back home to see Brian for their dental needs. We wish Brian well in his retirement but we surely will miss knowing we’ll see him on our dental visits. He is our friend as well as our dentist.
Brian, Brian, he’s our man, if he can’t fix your teeth nobody can. But now he’s retiring and that’s so sad. My teeth will miss him, my gums are glum, and whenever a tooth ached he’d been my chum. But where do I go now when a toothie needs a fixing? Maybe I’ll find him on a golf course nearby with a Nine iron to address my dental affliction.
I hate it when a provider retires; I do have a great recommendation for the best dentist I’ve known in 69 years, across two continents.
In the light of some recent blogs and “your walking through a dark valley”, perhaps it is fitting to remember the sage words of musician and video editor Chad Sugg: “If you’re reading this…Congratulations, you’re alive. If that’s not something to smile about, then I don’t know what is.” So thanks for bringing a smile to my face and life this morning. After all, a smile is contagious!
Beautiful.
Good post ! Make a date to meet at the Sweet Shop and keep in touch with this good friend. There is a dentist like that here in our town.
The blessings of Shepherdstown never stop. Beautiful place full of wonderful people. Thanks as ever, Rev
A bumper sticker for older folks = “I can live with that. Not happily, but I will.”
I have shoes that were once a comfort, physically and mentally. They put a pep in my step and were a visual accessorizing statement, as in $15 work boots off the shelf. Then came a day when my feet changed. They got old and flat. And it is damn hard to find a comfortable shoe or that golden orthotic that makes any shoe wearable for a time. I no longer smirk at folks wearing socks with sandals. I nod in solidarity.
Dr. Kellogg and Dr. Palank (aka Brian) are a comfort I will miss, particularly at a time when yearly blood tests seem to indicate which specialist you need to see, and it takes you longer to get to the doctor’s office than you are actually face-to-face speaking with them.
I plan to ask Siri about all of this the next time we chat.
Breaking up is never easy. Sorry.
My dentist too. I gave him a hug. I want his hat back.
This story brings a big smile… the 3 stooges, the Beatles… who couldn’t smile when Brian Palank walks in.
He saw me a few times when I worked with his wife Chris… she set me up & he always made time for me, thankfully. He had a super busy practice, and long wait time for a new patient, so I ended up elsewhere. But most of my friends see/saw Brian & loved him for obvious reasons. Seeing him on the soccer fields over the years at my grandson’s games was great – community minded – loving soccer & fun and his practice (& his family!)… I say kudos to you, Brian Palank!! Well done, sir! Now ENJOY your well deserved retirement & see you around!🎶
Gratitude that someone could be your bright light during a long walk in a dark valley, one I think we’ve all witnessed, as you are weekly for us. May all here be fortunate enough to take “sundown rest” with the brightest light imaginable. ✨️ Peace forward, Light forward.
We all need to feel important and special, especially when a dentist is working on ones mouth. The same holds true with doctors. At these vulnerable times dentists and doctors are in control and need to be. Cultivating a sense of trust is easier for some professionals than others. Chair and bedside manner are both vital for engendering patient confidence. I once had a dentist I didn’t know taking a look in my mouth to inspect a broken tooth. “Man! I’d sure like to get some of what you’ve got left,” he remarked. (What did that even mean.) At first I felt lucky that my friend’s dentist would agree to see me on the spur of the moment. Then I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I suppose this was prompted by my revealing that I was about to leave for a Sierras hiking trip. “If you go up in altitude, you’re going to cause that one to blow!” he warned me. Meanwhile, I edging for the door. I paid my bill and got my arse out of there. 🙂
I felt this day was coming… even last month when I drove 3 hours from Charlottesville for my new crown. I’ve been doing this drive for the last 8 years at least every six months after I moved “south.” I could tell “the end” was near, and the drive home was ever so much longer knowing it may be the last time we caught up on kids and grandkids and bantered back and forth. Yet if anyone deserves a carefree, golden “retirement”…. Still. I’m guessing and hoping all the heart, humor, caring, and years of experience, skill, and expertise may find a new venue with time. For now may the fairways.and greens be kind to our good friend and favorite dentist.
True story! This made me sad, but happy too.
You’re talkin’ about my dentist! Brian Palank never let me down in regular care or emergencies, of which I’ve had more than a few. I treasure the gift of going to a dentist who shares my love of music and who has educated me with all sorts of facts about musicians that I never knew. I never knew that “Judy Blue Eyes” was Judy Collins for example. I watched a video about the Laurel Canyon enclave of musicians because of Brian. In the dentist’s chair, I would ask him to identify a tune playing in the office and as you say, he always knew.
A few days ago, I passed him in an aisle at Food Lion. I was temporarily stunned seeing him dressed in regular clothes and noticing how good looking he is (even better than in the office) and he said, “So – You’re going to just pass by me without speaking?” I finally came to my senses, fully realizing who he was before I could say “Hi”.
I’m so glad to hear how he’s your friend. It figures. Thanks for another great story.
Oh Randy, that was just the BEST! If only I was so eloquent with words, I would say the same thing! 🤣
He was our small town, “one in a million “ dentist! He will be sorely missed.
One more thing, a slow thinker, I am. This reminds me of a sad but happy time someone else we know and love, retired.