Prior to my cancer diagnosis last fall, I was a regular at Mike Dean's office. He's been my dentist for the past 15 years, and I have gone in four times a year for cleanings and other fun adventures.
All that stopped when cancer was found in my lymph nodes and chemotherapy started. I'm not quite sure why I wasn't supposed to go to the dentist, but I didn't complain.
This week marked my return with a light cleaning and the examination of a tooth that started to cause problems about halfway through my chemo treatments. Turns out a piece of a crown broke off, so I get to go back in next week to get that fixed.
Throughout my visit, I answered questions by the doctor and his staff about my treatments, hair loss, family and so on. They know I'm a bit of a joker, but they still weren't sure of my state of mind after battling the mindless disease.
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Just as I was about to get an X-ray, I suddenly pointed to the machine and asked with apparent sincerity: "Hey! This thing doesn't cause cancer, does it?"
The staff member went silent for a brief moment of shock and dismay, then recalled I'm a bit of a joker and replied, "Well, I hope not!"
Yes, life is getting back to normal.