Up until this point, I'd been to the dental school for various appointments - most of which consisted of "treatment planning" (AKA figure out all of the million things that are wrong with my mouth so he can fix them). I quickly learned I had many things that needed attention. I am an almost 26 year old with too many fillings to count, a crown, and a long road of orthodontics behind me. I am used to hearing, "Well, we're going to have to (insert painful procedure)."
(the mean ole drills)
Although my mouth is used to all of this, I was still a bit nervous to receive a filling from my own brother. You're telling me that the same kid that pushed me out of the power wheel is going to get inside my mouth with sharp instruments and drills? It was a weird realization. And prior to dental school, you couldn't have paid him enough money to stick his fingers in my mouth. But I know my brother. He is a perfectionist and he only really knows how to do things well.
After he gave me a few shots and my tongue felt ginormous, he began the drilling. Of course, as we all know, the worst part about the drilling is the sound of it. Luckily, I was pretty distracted listening to Mark ask for different instruments. I thought, Where did he learn all of this? When did my brother become a dentist?! It was like, "Pass me the lviwoibalf." And the lviwoibalf showed up in his hand.
(This has to be one of my most favorite pictures ever.)
It was all so fascinating. And I'm just so proud of him. Hearing my mom talk about Mark giving me a filling is a story with a lot of emotion attached to it. I totally get it though. Her kids are growing up and we're not only friends, but we're helping one another in very real ways.
(He was genuinely taking a look at my filling, but my mom couldn't resist a picture.)