My dentist runs a sort of production line, as dentists seem to do these days; quite a few patients at once, all being worked on in bays by assistants, the dentist herself popping in at critical times. The plan for me today was to reduce two teeth either side of my missing one where the implant has failed twice, so the bridge could be attached to them. At the end of the visit, I would leave with a temporary bridge across all three spaces.

Yesterday, the dentist was trying to work a little too fast, and didn’t always keep track of what she was doing, or of what other people had done.

Meanwhile, the assistant and I got off on the wrong foot, because she was wearing her surgical mask below her nose and I had to ask her to raise it. Though I explained that I am high risk because of my asthma, and though my inhaler was right there and I used it because I was coughing, people don’t like being reproved.

The assistant briskly got me ready, then the dentist (who does mask properly) came in and explained she would be giving me two shots of Novocaine with epinephrine and one without, because I don’t numb easily. She gave me the first two and left.

When she returned, without giving me the third shot, and assuming that the assistant had been there and taken care of another critical step, the dentist started drilling.

As the dentist drilled, the assistant came in and said something. “Oh. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” said the dentist. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Apparently the assistant was supposed to take the mold for the temporary bridge before the dentist started drilling. But then the dentist realized I had my retainers with me. “Oh, we can use the bottom retainer as the mold,” said the dentist happily, and went on drilling.

After the dentist left, the assistant grimly got back to work.Then she noticed one of my bracelets had the name of a Phillies baseball player, and we got onto sports. After establishing that both of us like a little baseball and neither goes to football games, she tentatively mentioned ice hockey, and at that point, I knew she was dangling a hint.

“Philly’s getting a women’s basketball team in 2030,” I said firmly.

“Oh, I’ve seen the New York team, the, the–“

“The Liberty,” I said, and at that point we knew more or less where we were.

She said, “My wife and I have gone to a couple of Liberty games, but I may have to change who I cheer for if we get a team in Philly.”

“My adult kid loves the Liberty,” I said, “And I went to a game with them,” and now we were on the same side, and she was kinder to my mouth after that.

I still felt as if I had been punched in the jaw after the anesthesia wore off, but at least nobody had been deliberately mean to me.