Sad Death

This morning started like many Monday mornings. When I woke up, I did what I usually did; I looked at my phone to see if there were any messages for me. Most of the time, there aren't any because I am not that important other than what my mind tells me, but this morning, I had a dental appointment at 10:50 AM, and I had to get ready for it. It was not anything new there.

I have lots of doctor's appointments in any given week. So I went to my computer to do a couple of things. By the time I finished what I was doing, it was 10:45 AM. Late Randy was going to be late again.

I arrived at the doctor's office just before 11:00 AM, actually 10:59 AM. More often than not, I usually am about 15 minutes late. Arriving late was the case this morning.

When I entered the office, I noticed that all the waiting room chairs were empty. Wow, I was going to have my choice of where to sit. I was going to rearrange the chairs in any way I wanted. It was thrilling to think I could do this. But then I realized how odd this was.

The office was quiet. When walking to the administrative area, a section of the office enclosed in glass, only one position was empty. The only place not taken was at the front of the administrative area, but it was then momentarily filled when another person rushed in to take that frontmost position. By then, I had checked in for my appointment and was ready to wait.

I turned around to sit down and heard someone say my name. The technician called me to my actual appointment. I took my coat off and put my cane in the extra chair for those who accompany patients to their appointments. The only accompanist that I had was my cane and my coat. I made myself uncomfortable in the chair and readied myself for what was to come. Today it would be cleaning. I will see the doctor only for a few moments at the end of the appointment.

After I got into the chair, the technician readied her instruments and the supplies she would use. Among the tools were the usual scraping and poking tools. There was also the small mouth mirror that the technician and the doctor would use during my appointment.

While she was readying herself, I made the usual small talk. She also followed her standard script. The first question was always, "how are you feeling this morning, Dr. Kaplan? How is your mouth feeling?" if by now you haven't realized I'm at my dentist's office.

I wanted to speak with my doctor today about some pain I had been having. I didn't hear his voice, so I asked if he was in today. The technician stuttered and said, "no, he wouldn't be there today because he died two weeks ago." It was a strange way to put it. He wouldn't be in because he died two weeks ago.

You know, in the movies, when one person speaks with another, and the person speaking lands a bombshell on the person listening? At that moment the camera zooms into the face of the listener. The purpose of this closeup was to show the reaction of the listener.

I was the person whose face they were watching.

The technician went on with her work so I would have clean teeth. The doctor, needless to say, a different doctor, did an examination. He explained what he would do to remedy my pain. The new doctor was pleasant and funny.

I was still stunned. It was indeed an extraordinary and unexpected experience.

As I left the office, I wanted to convey my condolences to one of the administrators who had been with the office since I began frequenting this practice. At that time, they were in a different office. My dentist died after at least 11 years.

Sometimes, when an extraordinary human being dies, the loss of that person is felt far and wide in the community. It used to be when such a person died, the community, as a community, would mourn for the deceased.

This doctor was exceptional. He would exude such energy of trust, and one could not help but trust him. Unlike many doctors today, he listened to the patient. As a patient for more than ten years, he never stopped listening. He was, in many ways, an angel. From what I know of his life, he was an angel in the part of his life I did not know well. And like most of us, he had a secret. A secret has unleashed a kind of judgment that will blacken this person's reputation. None of us have the right.

We would do our best to honor and remember him for all the extraordinary things he had done and all the unique things he represented. It was apparent he was a man of high principles. You are fortunate if there is even one person you could call extraordinary.

In religious and spiritual services, it is often said that a person will be "taken home" when they die. My theory about death is that when we die, god decides that a person is finished with their existence on this plane of existence on Earth. Or in their lives, they have lived their lives well enough to move on. At this moment, this is what is meant by going home. I wish to believe this about my dentist. Let him be in peace. Before I die, I hope to encounter other special people I can call an angel. Being angelic is the highest honor I can bestow on anyone I have known. Another star in our sky has winked out.