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When ADA News featured an article requesting stories for a new
book, “Chicken Soup for the Dental Soul,” Thomas G.
Dwyer, SD’74; MS’79, mailed in a submission.
According to Dr. Dwyer, the story, “On Call for Christmas,”
passed the first round and was rated highly.
Though the story wasn’t selected for the book, Dr. Dwyer
received a call from Dental Economics, and was asked for permission
for the article to be printed.
“It is easy to get caught up in one’s own plans,”
writes Dr. Dwyer, “and ignore God’s plan. This story
helps me keep my life in perspective and it reminds me of the
Golden Rule. I hope it will be helpful to others.”
Following is the article.
On Call for Christmas
It was Christmas Eve, and I had drawn the short straw; now I was
the “on-call doctor” for our dental group.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” advised my colleague
as he handed me the pager. “Everyone is so busy with their
own Christmas plans, no one will ever call you.”
I hoped he was right. As I drove home, the car radio played “I’ll
be home for Christmas,” and I began to sing along: “I’m
on-call for Christmas, you can count on me…”
When I walked in the front door there was a whirlwind of activity
going on as my wife finished preparations for the special family
dinner for our visiting relatives. Finally we sat down to the
first course of baked acorn squash soup. No sooner had the bowls
been removed and the main course served than the beep of the pager
jolted me.
“Who is calling me on Christmas Eve?” I snarled. “They
can just wait until I’m finished eating.”
I cleaned my plate, but really didn’t taste another bite.
Excusing myself, I reluctantly dialed the number and a woman
answered the phone. Between sobs, she told me she had started
calling every dentist in the phone book, and that I was the only
one to call her back. She told me she had a broken tooth but tonight
it had gotten really bad. She was desperate and in excruciating
pain.
“It sounds like you probably need a root canal,” I explained
to her. “I’ll meet you at my office in 45 minutes.”
I kicked myself as I said that. It would ruin Christmas Eve with
my family
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With 30 minutes to drive in, perhaps an hour or more with the
patient, and 30 minutes more to drive home, it would be after
10 before I returned.
“What is it?” asked my wife.
“Some idiot who has had a problem for months now, and just
decided on Christmas Eve that it needs to be fixed!” I fumed
as I stormed out of the house.
On the drive to the office, I heard that song again and I joined
in: I’m on-call for Christmas, you can count on me…”
I furiously pounded the steering wheel as I sang.
When I arrived at the office and began to unlock the front door,
I heard someone approaching. I turned and saw a very pregnant
woman walking slowly toward me.
“Are you Mary,” I asked”
“Yes, thank you for coming out to help me,” she began.
“When are you due?”
“Any minute now,” she explained.
My anger quickly vanished and I felt ashamed for being so upset
by this emergency.
“Well, come on in. At least we’ll get your tooth fixed
up,” I told her.
Her lower left second bicuspid was badly decayed and would need
root canal treatment.
I explained I would start the procedure now and finish after the
baby was born.
And so, Mary, the unborn babe and I spent Christmas Eve together,
working on a bad tooth.
I thought of another time, another Mary, the unborn Jesus. They
would have had a very bad night that first Christmas Eve had it
not been for the kindness of a stranger—a caring innkeeper
who took pity on them, and let them use his stable.
“Okay, Tylenol should take care of any pain from the procedure
now. I think you’ll do fine. Give me a call in a few weeks
and we’ll finish the root canal,” I told Mary.
“Thank you very much for helping me,” she replied. “I’m
sorry I ruined your Christmas Eve.”
Ruined? Well, the evening had not turned out like I expected,
but I felt like I had been called on to play the modern role of
the kindly innkeeper—to help Mary in her hour of need. Ruined?
No, my Christmas Eve had been enriched. In some ways it was almost
like being part of the first Christmas.
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