The Dentist Keeps Secrets

About three weeks ago, I convinced myself I have five cavities and am going to die. And while I’m obviously going to die one day, I really don’t want it to be from rotten teeth, so I scheduled a dentist appointment to have things looked at.

Much to my surprise—like, literally, I was floored—my dentist told me that prior to 2008 (I guess before I started going to his particular practice) I’d already had three fillings put in, and then he put a fourth filling in himself in 2016. Six years ago.

What freaks me out more than blacking out whatever years of my childhood were the cavity-filling years is that I have absolutely no recollection of having a tooth filled in 2016. I thought my dentist was lying, so I laughed in his face when he told me. Like, how DARE you tell me I already have four fillings, and I remember none of them?

And now I’m down this rabbithole, thinking about all the people I’ve crossed paths with—once or semi-regularly—who hold intimate memories of me/my health when I’m out here not remembering anything.

It reminds me of this thought I’ve always had, which is that only Time knows all. We have a slippery grasp on all our dear memories, but we like to think otherwise and hold on tight as hell.

What I’m trying to say is the dentist keeps secrets. And none of the teeth I’ve been worried about are problematic, as it turns out.