“Nobody is one block of harmony. We are all afraid of something, or feel limited in something. We all need somebody to talk to. But maybe instead of going to a psychiatrist, it would be good if we talked to each other–not just pitter-patter. But really talk. We shouldn’t be so afraid, because most people really like this contact; that you show you are vulnerable makes themfree to be vulnerable too. And then we don’t wear these masks. It’s so much easier to be together when we drop our masks.”–Liv Ullmann on relationships, and featured in the Points To Ponder column of the November 1983 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine.
Why is real conversation between two loving people–friends, family–sometimes like pulling teeth? To some, I guess, silence is more comfortable. I would prefer hearing something from the heart, something that makes me consider my answer carefully, that gets me thinking.
I accompanied my sister and my niece to a dental surgeon’s office today. My niece needed to have her wisdom teeth removed. I have a great dentist. He tolerates a lot with me. I’ve never been comfortable in the dentist chair no matter what needed to be done. But he has helped me to overcome my anxiety.
My sister and I got talking about that today. We’re both from a generation that didn’t hide the unpleasant things like they do today. When we went to the dentist as kids, the pliers and the picks were laid out on a tray that was carefully situated directly in front of the patient. When we sat back in that chair–that in those days resembled a barber’s chair–we sometimes had time before the dentist walked in to contemplate the tools of the trade. Dentists today hide all the nasty stuff in drawers behind the patient. You never see what’s needed to do the job until the work actually begins. (I never do, because my eyes are closed!) My niece was actually quite comfortable with what was on the agenda. She was going to be asleep during the procedure. We were left awake in the waiting room, wondering why it was taking so long…
…And believe it or not, in the deep, dark past, the local barber was also the dentist, so it doesn’t surprise me that the chair I remember resembled the same one I sat in to get my hair cut. (Maybe that’s why I preferred long hair in my youth…)
My niece had an appointment with the dental surgeon who removed my wisdom teeth. I mentioned that fact to the nurse in the recovery room when my niece was just about ready to leave. She took one look at me and commented on the fact that the surgeon had been in practice for well over 25 years. I told her that he had done the procedure within the past ten years. Her comment to me was something like, “Had trouble parting with them, did you?” Truth be told, they had given me problems throughout my whole life, but I was too fearful to have them taken out. Had I known then what I know now, I would have had them removed twenty years earlier.
This is the time of year when students get their wisdom teeth removed. It’s done in the summer before school starts. (And I thought fighting the crowds getting back-to-school supplies was something to be avoided!)
The reason I bring this to your attention in this blog is the fact that sitting out there today waiting, I knew what my wife went through the day I was in there. I was blissfully asleep, unaware of what might have been going through her mind. She was alone in the waiting room that day. My sister had me for moral support. We took advantage of the time together to get caught up on all the news, share some wonderful memories from our life, remember our parents fondly, and that helped to make the waiting bearable.
“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face us with the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.” -Henri Nouwen, on friendship, from Out of Solitude, published by Ave Maria Press
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Don Jackson
