The radio in the background is always on the Oldies station. I could make out the songs I used to hear when I was a boy being driven around in my father’s car. The exact chair I was sitting in I had occupied at least 100 times over a 33 year span. Every time I slither down into the chair I have flashbacks of my youth, my career in teaching, and my family. My mom and dad started going to Dr. Peter Chidyllo’s dental office when I was still in college. It made sense to me that when I returned to the Hudson Valley in 1982, he would be the one to take care of my pearly whites.
Right from the start me and Doc, as I affectionately refer to him, hit it off. I didn’t like going to see him, but I did like him. Like myself, he was an upstart making his way in the world with a blossoming business and family. I was an insecure 22 year old kid who had just started a career as a school teacher but was clueless to lessons of life. All of these years later it was still the two of us exchanging small talk on a warm March day as I nestled into my seat for another drilling.
Over the years my appointments with Dr. Chidyllo have been bittersweet. They represented a microcosm of my life. Doc and I have only seen each other during my visits, never in the outside world, but we interact in the way old friends do. When I first met Doc my teeth seemed to be symbolic of the life I had led to that point. In 1982 my mouth was in disrepair from my early years of living hard and giving no mind to the discipline of dental hygiene. Since that time, I’ve gone through reconstructive surgery, had total replacements on five different teeth, and a major root canal. Through it all, whether it be a cleaning or major surgery, I am always under the influence of Nitrous Acid (laughing gas). The drug takes me to a place that is both peaceful and dreamingly tranquil (most of the time). It certainly eases my pain and takes me on short trips back in time similar to a potent hallucinogenic. Doc usually jokes that I must have smoked a lot of dope in college. He will often remind me that the gas machine is turned up to full throttle. The laughing gas is so intoxicating for me that on one occasion I came in carrying several balloons and asked for an order to go.
My early experiences in Dr. Chidyllo’s office were mostly unpleasant. In my mid 20’s I had each of my wisdom teeth extracted. This amounted to four painful, separate surgeries, each one more excruciating than the next. Both the patient and doctor appeared equally nervous during these procedures. Doc was probably 31 when he removed the last of my wisdom teeth. I mention this because after that day I truly believed he would be looking for a new career. I was heavily medicated and the long, intimidating Novocain needles had already been inserted into my gums when the operation went awry. While the tears poured from my eyes, Doc was wrestling with the big bad tooth that had been broken in half by his pliers. It was the only moment in all my visits in which I saw the look of panic on Doc’s face. I was drenched in sweat as Doc went back to the drawing board and left the room to get some more numbing needles. He then made another incision and finally dug out the infectious tooth. That visit ended with me on the floor. I had a small hammer and was smashing the cracked tooth into oblivion screaming, “Take that!!!!! You will never hurt anyone again!”
As the years passed on I would see Doc every six months for routine x-rays and cleanings. It reached the point where I looked forward to my rides down to Wallkill. Doc and I would engage in meaningful conversation. Sometimes he would have a gift for me other than a toothbrush like bottles of expensive vodka and a book about blackjack. Mostly, I enjoyed inhaling some funny gas and going into dream land. In later years, by happenstance, my visits began to coincide with emotional events in my life. It was in the mid – nineties when I was aware my parents were in the midst of some marital issues that I let the laughing gas get the best of me. As I entered the waiting room I noticed the woman I knew was having an affair with my father, waiting for her turn in the chair. I was mad at my father because I had been aware of the relationship for close to 15 years. When Doc asked me, like he regularly did, how my dad was doing I told him, “Not bad for a guy who is married and has a girlfriend too.” Doc looked at me with both astonishment and fright as I removed my mask and proceeded to lead him into the waiting room. In a loud voice in front of about eight people, I pointed and loudly declared, “That’s her. That is my father’s girlfriend for the past 15 years.”
During February of 2013, I was in the middle of intense negotiations with my employer Ulster Savings Bank. In the midst of my career turmoil I chipped a tooth munching on a bagel. I had an appointment scheduled with the dentist at 11:00am on Wednesday, Feb 13th. As I rode down to Wallkill for my appointment my phone was lighting up like a pinball machine. It was the President of Ulster Savings Bank. “If you fail to report to the bank today by 11:00am to sign your producer agreement, and its’ Non Compete Clause, you shall be officially terminated from employment.” The way things stood in regards to my work environment, this was not shocking news. I was now forced into a final decision before I had anticipated. My answer came from my foot as I pressed harder on the gas pedal continuing on to see Doctor Chidyllo. I took my seat in the old familiar chair and knew it would not take much gas or Novocain to numb me today. “Ready to take care of that hole, Rich?” Doc politely asked me. As he sharpened up the tools of his trade the clock was striking 11. I had the firm look on my face of a man prepared for war. “Let’s get this party started, Doc. I’m being fired from my job and getting drilled in the dentist chair at the same exact moment.” I closed my eyes and breathed in the gas.
To loosen me up for my most recent drilling, Doc had some pictures and stories to share with me. He had just spent the week in Louisiana with his son, Donald Trump Jr. and a collection of their friends. Doc had gone down to The Bayous for a fishing expedition with his son and his friends. As part of the weekend he also attended a reception hosted by a current presidential candidate, Donald Trump. Doc had an opportunity to chat with my old high school chum Keith Schiller, who is the head of security for the Trump Organization. Doc’s dental hygienist, Hilda Freer, happens to also be a classmate of mine. While absorbing my medications Doc continued to converse on the smallness of the world, on being the parents of grown children, and on how far the two of us had come since the days we first met. “Isn’t it ironic” I thought to myself. We had both been through so much in this life. In our own right we had achieved modest success. Our paths never crossed in the world outside his dental practice, but that chair, surrounded by those four walls, held all our secrets. Thanks to Doc my days of pain in the dentist’s chair seem to be behind me. Doc has made sure my teeth will hold up well into the future. If only I could be as confident that the machinations of life will be as kind.
