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“I know that, honey. But you know me, I’m a worrier. That’s my job as a mom after all. Don’t pay any attention to me. Everything is all right with you, though. You are tip-top, one hundred percent, A-OK, all right?” “Sure.” Owen said. Dr. Ronald R. Davis, MD (Dr. Ron to the under 13 set) entered the examination room. He was a pleasant looking man in his late 40’s with a warm smile and a full head of salt and pepper hair. Unlike most men his age he was not going bald. In fact he appeared to have the opposite of a receding hair line. Donna Anderson had noticed this peculiarity her previous visit. She found it amazing to think that if his descending hair line continued unabated, in 20 years or so he would no longer have a forehead. Dr. Ron offered Donna Anderson a smile and a nod and another Blow Pop to Owen. One more cavity to be filled by your DDS pals, Donna Anderson thought with irritation. Dr. Ron sat down on a little stool and wheeled himself over to the table where Owen was sitting. “Well, hello there, Owen. What seems to be the trouble today?” “Headache,” Owen said, taking the Blow-Pop out of his mouth momentarily. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. I’m sure we can do something about that. Owen, I’m going to need you to lie back--here I’ll take the pop and place it on the table--don’t worry, it’ll be fine there until we’re done.” Owen sat back and laid his head down on the white deli paper. It made a crackly sound in his ear. Hey, look! Now I’m the sandwich, Owen thought. Dr. Ron wheeled his stool over to get a better angle on Owen’s head. “How long has he been having these headaches, Mrs. Anderson?” Dr. Ron asked. “About 3 days, Doctor. He first complained to me on Sunday--and today is Wednesday--so just about 3 days exactly. I’m not sure of the exact time of the day on Sunday when he told me, but I think it was mid-afternoon, does that help?” “Yes, Mrs. Anderson. That’s very helpful. OK, Owen. Now where’s the headache exactly? Can you point to the spot where it’s troubling you the most?” Owen used both his index fingers to point to the middle of his forehead about 2 inches above the bridge of his nose. “Ok. That’s fine, Owen. Is he allergic to anything, Mrs. Anderson?” Dr. Ron asked. “No, doctor…not that I’m aware of. He’s usually a very healthy little boy.” Dr. Ron wheeled himself over to a drawer and brought out an otoscope “OK. Well, I’m going to use this light to look inside Owen’s ears and nose and see if there is any mucus build-up. Sometimes sinus allergies can affect the Eustachian tubes and that may be what’s causing Owen’s headache.” He shone the light in Owen’s left nostril first and then his right nostril. It was in Owen’s right nostril where Dr. Ron found the little blue Lego. “Well, what do we have here?” Dr. Ron said to himself. He slid back to the counter, opened a drawer, and pulled out a set of large metal tweezers. Donna Anderson said worriedly, “Doctor, what are those for?” “It looks like Owen has a stow-away in his right nostril. With the help of these tweezers, I’m going to pluck it out. How does that sound, Owen?” “Great!” Owen said. Sharp metal objects were cool, but when you had sharp metal objects prodding around inside your nose, that was even cooler. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” Dr. Ron said. “Great!” Owen said again. With the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, Dr. Ron removed the little blue Lego from Owen’s right nostril. But the little blue Lego was not the only object that he found in there. This is what he found: Three pairs of eye glasses. An over-sized novelty Coca-Cola can. An un-opened umbrella. A rolled up newspaper from March 7th, 2004. A license plate from Mississippi. Thirty-seven paperclips. Thirteen Lincoln Logs. A pair of purple suede boots with silver buckles. A ring with the initials J. H. engraved on it. A pair of Tom and Jerry salt and pepper shakers. A teddy bear with a missing left eye. A paperback copy of the Woody Allen book Without Feathers. A six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. A twenty-five foot length of copper tubing. A forty watt light bulb. A car radio. A fireplace poker. A one-point-five liter bottle of Delicato Chardonnay. A Chewbacca action figure. Four bananas. A lava lamp. A bale of hay, an orange sweatshirt, an ear of corn, a lead pencil and a six week old Golden Retriever puppy rounded out the list. “Owen!” Donna Anderson said, quite shocked. Owen had learned from many past experiences that when he was in trouble with his mother the best defense was to keep quiet and look ashamed. “I’m sorry, mom.” “This is amazing; absolutely amazing!” Dr. Ron said. “This isn’t possible. It goes against every law of physics ever written.” The puppy began to lick Dr. Ron’s face. “Can I keep him, mom?” Owen asked, indicating the puppy. “I guess so, honey. But remember he’s your dog. That means walking him, feeding him, and cleaning up after him. I’m not taking care of him. He’s your responsibility.” “I know, I know.” Owen said. He picked up the puppy and began petting him and stroking his ears. The puppy sneezed and wagged its tail. “I have to get one more look at this,” Dr. Ron said. “Owen, I need you to sit back for me again, ok?” “But my headache’s all gone, Dr. Ron,” Owen said. Donna Anderson nearly fainted with relief. Oh, thank God. Thank God, thank God, thank God. “That’s great, Owen. Just one more look and then we’re done.” Dr. Ron placed the puppy on the floor and it began barking now that it wasn’t in Owen’s grasp. Dr. Ron licked his lips and wiped sweat from his brow. He inserted the tweezers into Owen’s right nostril. He felt a tug on his lab coat and looked over his shoulder. “Did you want something, Mrs. Anderson?” Dr. Ron asked. Mrs. Anderson shook her head and looked puzzled. Dr. Ron continued digging at the obstruction in Owen’s nostril. Again he felt another tug on his coat. This time he decided to ignore it and kept prying at the thing that was lodged in Owen’s nose. He felt that he could extract the object if he just pulled hard enough. He inhaled deeply, let it out, and pulled with all his might. The last two things Dr. Ron heard before he left this world was a gasp from Mrs. Anderson and the echoing sounds of a puppy’s bark. And then there was nothing.
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