Today I had to do one of my least favorite things, go to the dentist. I didn't hate it as a child. In fact, I looked forward to it. Our dentist was one of my best friend's dad. My friend had Muscular Dystrophy. We went all the way through school together. He was the first person I ever met with that dread disease and at the young age of six, I never dreamed it would take his life. We were the best of buddies. Everyday through grade school, we were forced to have rest period. I remember he was taken out of his wheelchair each day and laid flat on a table. I always made sure I had the cot beside his, and we would talk and giggle the hour away. He was very, very funny. He couldn't move any of his limbs and even had difficulty holding his head up. His father, being a doctor, had hired a college student to be his aid. He had a personal aid till the day he died.
His dad was a wonderful man. Going to see him at his office was always fun. It was easy to see where my friend got his sense of humor. Father and son, were very close. It was difficult for my dentist to deal with the diagnoses of his son and facing a future without him was overwhelming. So much so, that one fateful evening, my dentist shot himself. We were just young teens. I don't think he could bare to watch his young son die. My friend and his sister were the one's to discover the body. If he had only known that his son would make it all through high school, graduate from college and have a well respected position at the university. MD did eventually take his life but he and his daddy would have had many, many more years together. Ever sense then, I have hated going to the dentist.
By the time I was 25, I had lost many wonderful, precious friends to that disease. Watched them wither away until God called them home.
I pray that God will continue to give wisdom to the men and women who seek a cure.
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