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Attila the Dental Hygienist

by Memphis Saltos

I just came back from my usual biannual visit to Attila the Dental Hygienist. Attila is in her 70s and has magnets placed strategically all over her body. Perhaps it is these attracting forces giving her the strength to make my jaw feel like I've been in a boxing ring after our visits.

Why do I go to Attila when I could easily find a younger and gentler person to care for my teeth? It can't be that her office is in the tallest unreinforced brick building in Berkeley.  That high rise will tumble like Jenga blocks when the big one hits, so I'm playing Russian Roulette by continuing to spend so much time there.  It can't be her running commentary on the evils of the foods and beverages I consume, how I must floss more, brush better and how I must try magnets and oxygenated water.

I go because despite it all I love Attila the Dental Hygienist. She remembers the evils of the McCarthy era and the time she had to put up with an abusive husband.  She remembers Jack Kennedy. She remembers the names and ages of my daughters and knows each and every job I've had since coming to Berkeley. And she remembers to pick the brightest and most colorful toothbrush for me at the end because she knows I like them.