The Menla Root Canal
There I am, sitting—well, lying—in the dental chair, mouth propped open, protective goggles in place, staring alternately at the ceiling, my dentist and the syringe and needle he is going to stab into my gum for my first root canal. He and his assistant are in blue-green scrubs, wearing masks and their own goggles. The needle looks serious, and this does not promise to be fun.
I remember Medicine Buddha, and somehow I think to do the healing practice not for me, but for my dentist and his assistant. I might have some brief discomfort, but they have the responsibility to do this difficult procedure in the small space of my mouth, and to keep my teeth happy for a long time. I know that dentistry is a stressful profession. I practice for the goal that my dentist and the assistant enjoy their own good health and happiness. At that moment, I no longer feel a victim of tooth decay. I am a co-celebrant in a bigger view of health. I feel immediately feel better, and the root canal is a breeze.
