This Can't Be Normal

Life Without Smiles

We went to Seattle last week to visit family. Those people are crazy. They wear masks everywhere. Joggers, hikers, bikers … everyone. I think they even wear them to bed. We took a boat ride around Lake Union and went by an individual kayaker in the middle of the lake wearing a mask. The landscape is littered with political activists’ signs. One of the most popular signs says, “Wearing a mask shows you care.” I’m not sure if it means people wear masks because they actually care or if it means wearing a mask makes it look like you care.

My military service qualifies me for medical through the VA, and I have trusted my dental health to them for several years. The clinic in Spokane, however, has been closed since February last year. They finally opened up to two urgent care appointments per day, and my deteriorating front teeth moved me to the top of the list. My visit was one of the most blatant examples of paranoid overkill I have ever experienced. As I approached the VA Hospital grounds, I was diverted through a series of barricades to one of two drive through tents. There I was stopped by a young lady wearing gloves, two masks, and a face shield. She asked me the now routine screening questions before giving me a sticker to put on my shirt and clearing me to drive into the hospital complex.

The eye clinic looked disserted as I drove by and parked next to the only other car in front of the dental building. I was greeted at the door by a stop sign that told me to wait. A lady in full hazmat gear came out, handed me an electronic pager, and told me to wait in my car. A few minutes later two hazmat clad ladies knocked on my window. They were covered head to toe in protective gear such that the only thing I could see were their eyes. One of them mumbled something to me and tilted my head back against the car seat. She then stuck a swab up my nose and put it in a plastic bag. It took three or four tries talking through her mask until I understood I was to keep the pager and come back in two hours unless informed by phone that I had tested positive. I went shopping then came back and waited.

When my pager beeped and vibrated, I was met by a young man in a different hazmat suit and escorted to the treatment room. He pulled aside the clear plastic covering the door opening then resealed it behind me. Finally, I was seated in the chair and told to remove my mask. The dentist arrived, also in a full body protective suit, and spent fifteen minutes applying some sort of BONDO to stabilize my front teeth. He said that would have to do until the pandemic was over, and he could do something more permanent.

I probably should feel grateful that the folks in Seattle and the VA dental clinic protect me from harm, but I don’t. I don’t feel any safer than I do in areas that are much more lax. Our cabin on the Pend Oreille River is only a stone’s throw from Idaho. I shop there rather on our side of the border because it feels normal. People either choose to wear a mask or they don’t. I feel afraid when I walk down the street in Seattle, but I don’t in Idaho. I actually had dinner in a restaurant and the waitress smiled at me. It is a shame I have to go out of state to see someone smile.

Frank Watson is a retired Air Force Colonel and long-time resident of Eastern Washington. He has been a free-lance columnist for over 20 years.