The Peach Of All The Cream

I met my husband under duress; my duress, not his. I had recently moved to a new town and was in desperate need of finding a good dentist. A friend whom I’d recently met in the Junior Woman’s Club recommended her’s; said he was kind, competent and had a hilarious sense of humor. A dentist with humor, I thought? Good, at least one of us would be laughing. And knowing the possible state of  my mouth, chances were pretty good that he would be laughing all the way to the bank.

Other than competence and humor, I wasn’t sure what to expect when this very tall lanky man strolled into the operatory where I sat propped in the chair of torture and doom. He was sporting bell-bottom blue jeans, a colorful flowery shirt and a bright engaging smile surrounded by a bushy red beard. A ruddy complexion dotted with a freckle or two, piercing blue eyes and bright red hair atop it all completed a look that I was just not expecting. Not that I ever thought that redheads didn’t become dentists; it’s just that in my entire life I’d only known one or two.  “Hi,” he said, “I’m Jim C. How can I help you today, Mrs. K?” (For now I’ll just use initials.)

Though I answered his question, I really  didn’t need to; one look inside my mouth confirmed the sad reality that I hadn’t been to a dentist in a long time. I became a regular at the office for the next few weeks as my dentist with the bushy red beard and wild sense of humor drilled his way through fourteen (yes, I hate to admit it, fourteen) cavities. I also kind of hate to use the word ‘drill’ as I never felt anything that remotely resembled what I initially had imagined drilling would feel like.

Well, on about the third or fourth visit, Dr. Jim sauntered into the operatory singing a funny little ditty. “I’m the greatest, I’m the one supreme. I’m the latest, I’m the peach of all the cream. I’m that lucky star that shines so bright above. I’m the greatest and it’s me I love.” It would be just the first of many such ditties that I would hear him sing over the years.

I would be his patient for eleven years before changing circumstances in both our lives would bring us together as more than just doctor and patient. During those eleven years before we ever went out on a single date, he smoked, then quit smoking and took up cycling. During the next twenty years, dentistry changed a lot and he had to accommodate those changes. From new regulations and equipment to wearing scrubs, gloves and masks in the operatory instead of street clothes. But the crazy little ditties and singing never changed and the singing never stopped.

Until that last year and a half that he practiced. Then the jokes gradually ended and the greatest, the one supreme and peach of all the cream, stopped singing his songs. And I knew things were wrong.

I miss a lot of things now. I miss his curious nature, his sense of adventure, his love of camping and bike riding. I miss his jokes and his sense of humor. But I really miss his singing and those crazy made-up songs. I miss my Peach of all the cream.