Yesterday this bitch went to the dentist with my brother Bill.
Newish readers should know that Bill is autistic and my sister and this bitch are co-guardians.
So, yesterday we went to the dentist…Bill and this bitch.
Oh, and newish readers should also know that Bill loves to eat and loves to list off the things he loves to eat. Bill doesn’t speak in sentences, so he just keeps rattling off his favorite foods over and over again while looking you dead in the eye as if he were negotiating a cease fire between nations at war.
He’s the oldest of the three of us and…well, we’re not chil’ren anymore (wince) so fast food yumminess has become a "sometimes food" indulgence thus making the listing of such foods in hopes of getting them serious business.
Yeah, so yesterday we went to the dentist…a bitch and Bill.
I should add that we were able to get dental coverage for Bill through C-Money's insurance (he had been without it because certain shameless anti-family evil Republican motherfuckers cut dental rather than cut the pork) so this was the first consultation visit with a new dentist. Bill is profoundly autistic…hates change…and has the patience of a 2 year old three hours into a 6 hour car ride to see Barney on Ice.
Anyhoo, yesterday I went to the dentist with Bill.
The visit went very well. Bill was in great spirits, enjoyed the fact that the waiting room had a ton of magazines and really liked his new dentist. The assistant and dentist even enjoyed Bill’s random lobbying for pizza ever two seconds (pizza is the new “it” food).
"Move your tongue."
"Pizza, pizza, pizza!"
Lawd, have mercy.
After the appointment I handled the paperwork associated with the new insurance while Bill sat and looked at more magazines. I felt a feeling…a certain solidity that comes from knowing that a needed thing is covered.
That feeling was just beginning to register when the waiting room door opened and…I kid you not…a pizza delivery man entered carrying one of those keep shit hot containers stacked with yummified pizza!
Bill almost fainted…his eyes went huge…he looked at me with such amazement that I thought the man would cry!
“No, no…not for us, Bill.” I said softly, fearing that he’d have a fit when he realized his baby sister hadn’t granted his ultimate pizza-based dream.
But Bill just grunted, took a long sorrowful sniff and went back to his magazine.
After years of worry, anxious check-ups and fretful budgeting….after years of attending appointments as a guardian/advocate/case manager/hell raiser…after all that shit, yesterday I went to the dentist with my brother.
His name is Bill.
His teeth look great.
And the only thing I worried about was whether he’d tackle the pizza delivery man.
Amazing, but it shouldn't be.
That feeling...that ability to just be a sister caring for her brother?
That shit needs to be universal.