Working during lockdown presented a whole different experience. We could only see a few patients and limited our work to pain relief procedures.
They came as a couple, both in their 70s; he was frail with a walking stick in one hand and the other one firmly grasped by her. He had a persistent toothache, so they had to brave the circumstances. He rarely spoke, and she did all the talking and more.
She requested a checkup for herself and revealed just 2-3 odd teeth: “My granddaughter is getting married in 2 months; can you make me a denture?”
“That takes 4-5 sittings; would you want to risk it in these times? I asked.
“How many people get to see their grandchildren’s wedding?”
Her affectionate Gujrati made the argument genuinely beautiful, explaining that she intended to accompany her husband anyway.
“करि नखों ने (It’s been a while she has been wanting dentures),” her husband supported—the only sentence he spoke.
I don’t really like making dentures. It’s a tad messy, plus the direct heat needed during the procedures means no PPE or disposable gowns. Albeit reluctantly, I relented. There was something so heartwarming about the couple that compelled me.
I said yes, and immediately she pulled out her chequebook. She paid in full upfront. Did she fear I’d change my mind as I was prioritising my work for emergencies and pain-relieving procedures?
On the third sitting, she realised I had not deposited her check.
“I made enough money for this month,” I joked, and she laughed. An honest laugh makes people look beautiful, even if they are toothless.
We have a lot of geriatric patients, so at our clinic, we collect all cheques and deposit them around the 5th of the following month, as some may be keen on the interest accrued.
“In our faith, interest is ill-earned money,” she said warmly.
“Deposit करि नखजो।” She was all pride and dignity.
The dentures were made, and she smiled radiantly, all set for the festivities and wedding.
Unfortunately, after the wedding, she contracted COVID. The infection got the better of her, and my heart broke a million pieces when I got the news of her demise. But I wasn’t surprised when her husband departed within a fortnight. Stroke, they said—grief struck the heart, I thought.
In this world or the next, they were meant to be constantly together, a thought that warmed my heart.