A woman from my dentist’s office just called to say that my dental insurance will cover a portion of the new bridge I will need.

“What will it cost me, about a million?” I said cheerfully.

She laughed nervously. “No, not quite that. It’s $1,506.”

I said, “Fine.” 

After a pause, said, “So we’ll go ahead and schedule a visit, then?” 

“I already–“

“Oh, I see you already have a visit scheduled for tomorrow!” she blurted.

“You should understand, my previous dentist couldn’t do a darn thing with my dental insurance,” I said.

She laughed nervously and said, “All right, we’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I told my adult kid, who said, “There is something exhausting about that kind of phone call, for me. Perhaps because a professional is having some sort of reaction and I feel like I should somehow manage it?”

I laughed and agreed. 

But also it’s exhausting because dentists, in addition to being apparently nice people who feel bad about charging you enormous fees, also are hurting you, all while you widen your mouth at them. They grind away at your teeth, and peer at your tonsils. 

This is what being an adult is like. Not having enough money to do something you don’t want to do, and spending the money and doing the thing anyway.

There is never enough money. But while I have insurance, I would like to have teeth. That’s what the money is for. That, and groceries, but you need teeth to eat.