Thursday, June 14, 2018


A couple of days ago, I went to the dentist for tooth filling. My 5-year-old son, who pretty much goes wherever I go, went along. With four books and a toy race car to entertain him while I get my tooth fixed, he was all set. We always pray every time we leave the house, and that day, I prayed for my dental procedure, particularly for it to not be "too painful" for me.

So there we were at the dentist -- me, being prepped on the dental chair, and my son, sitting right by my feet on a folding chair and was keeping himself busy with books. The dental assistant immediately applied topical anesthetic to numb my gums, and soon after, the dentist came in the room. He struck a conversation with my son before looking into my mouth. My son, being the natural inquisitive he is, got all curious with the "cool tools" the dentist was using.  He then got up from his chair and went closer to see, and asked the dentist a few questions. After answering and explaining things, the dentist then began injecting local anesthesia into my gums. I flinched and squirmed. It was a lot painful than I expected. My suppressed groans did not escape my little boy's attention. "Mom, breathe in, breathe out..." The dentist informed me that the injection was the hardest part of the procedure, and hearing that somewhat gave me relief. When the dentist and his assistant left the room as they waited for the anesthetic to take effect, my son thoughtfully asked me, "Are you feeling better now?", thinking that the procedure was all done.

After a few minutes, the dentist came back and started working on my tooth. For some reason, I was still sensitive to pain, which prompted a a second dose of local anesthesia. After a short while, the dentist started removing the old filling, but again, there was still pain. My mouth just wasn't numb enough! He injected another dose of local anesthesia for the third time. I then felt pain from the injection radiating to my ear that time which honestly scared me. Thoughts of complications started to form in my mind, and so I thought of God and said a quick prayer as I sat there on the dental chair. At that time, anxiety was slowly building up in me. I was so tempted to call my husband and ask him to come to the dental clinic and be there with me for the procedure, but I know he's quite busy himself at his clinic, so I didn't. "Just breathe in, breathe out..." Those words that my 5-year-old son kept repeating gave me the courage I badly needed that time.

The third dose of anesthesia kicked in, and though my tooth was still itty-bitty sensitive, the dentist was finally able to begin working on my tooth. With my eyes tightly closed for the entire procedure, the greatest comfort came from my son's tiny hand and little voice. I felt him moved and sit on the chair with me, and he gently grabbed my hand, "Just hold tight, Mom... breathe in, breathe out..." With every squirm, I squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, holding my hand tightly, until the procedure was done.

The staff was so impressed with how supportive my son was to me. They commended him for doing a great job and kept "Mommy from crying," and rewarded him a couple of toys after the visit. My son continued to check on me, asking me if I was okay, even later when we're already home.

I was immensely touched by my son's calm and caring attitude. God knew that this day would come when I would need a boost of courage, an extra dose of bravery, comfort amidst pain, and He thought I would get those best from a tiny hand... a little voice... and so, He gave me a son. I felt in my heart that some day in the future, when I'm all frail and weak, my son will hold my hand and comfort me the way he did at the dentist clinic. I'm very proud of my son, and truly thankful to him, for being my little-but-big hero.

Club Med Punta Cana, Dominican Republic
May 2018


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  2. indeed, little-but-big-hero, so thoughtful!


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