Ouch! Dignity

But really all this raises a much bigger question in my mind. Sitting in the doctor's office I felt so helpless. I felt so much that my fate was not in my hands. I had to wait my turn no matter how much it hurt. They put me in a small room. My ache was getting worse and worse. My entire face was hurting. No one came to give me the attention or to attend to my pain. I mentioned it to one of the dental assistants several times that I'm in excruciating pain, can she please call the doctor and have them expedite my service. But to no avail.

Then I fell on a plan. Maybe I should yell. Yes, good old-fashioned yell. Maybe I should come across as some cantankerous, insane old man. After living more than a half-century on this planet, I felt I was entitled. And I also felt that if I make a scene, an annoying and noisy one, I would get the proper attention that I needed -- quickly!

But my "rational" self piped in saying that it was undignified to do so. And that I would look weird. So I had to choose between looking weird or suffering in excruciating silence. And I chose the silence. What a coward.

But I realized more than ever how helpless I was in that room. How powerless and how weak I was and I could not determine my own fate. And I wondered if this was in store for me as I continue to age? Is aging -- growing old -- a "graceful process," or is it simply a time when we start feeling weaker, and more pain, and the breakdown of that once invulnerable body.

I was diminished. And I struggled to find my dignity that had somehow managed to elude me during my days of tooth torture. The entire event raises some very deep philosophical questions within me. I do not have the answers, nor have I completely formulated the questions. But when I do, I'll let you know.