The throbbing in my tooth through the night had brought to this stranger.
I was not proud of what he would see;
I was at least three times his age.

Many years of efforts to save a few discolored teeth,
A struggle to build bone, implant shells of metal, cover all with plastic,
Was bringing me another day of pain and embarrassment.

Fearful and ashamed of my teeth, I had to open wide
And allow a view of the basest part of me,
A kind of stripping in public.

Under the bright light
Wrinkles, age spots, large pores and scars,
All facial faults were on display and magnified.

Why had I never gone for that facial?
Why had I not paid attention to these things earlier?
Now it was too late; this meeting had to happen.

Gratefully I placed myself in the young dentist´s hands.
He carefully assessed the project presented to him;
This is what he had been trained to do.

With a few words of encouragement,
Slowly and methodically he went to work.
I began to trust his steady hand.

We seemed to be making a journey together;
We got to know each other in that hour.
Much later, I remembered his light touch, his gentle hand.

Margaret Randall

For Dr.Kevin Peterson
September 27, 2001