When COVID-19 forces a relationship to end

In my early 20s, I worked as an assistant manager at a department store. As I chatted with staff, the subject of dentists came up. “I have the best dentist!” I bragged. One of my colleagues exclaimed, “No, I have the best dentist.” Turned out we affectionately spoke about the same person. Dr. Edwards was incredibly energetic, positive and warm with everybody. His office was decorated with his son’s art, his wife’s photography, rainbows, nature and letters of recognition.

As a teen, my daughter studied drama and considered applying to Yale. Dr. Edwards’ son had the same passion and interests. In time, he was accepted to that university and continued to study drama.

The bakery I worked at in my teens eventually closed, but I found similar macaroons at other shops. The coconut treats started as an inside joke. It got to the point where Dr. Edwards conveniently popped up to the reception area when it was almost time for my appointment. He barely made eye contact, pretended to look for something on the desk, casually asked if the paper bag next to me was for him, and didn’t inquire how I was doing. When I yielded to the pressure and handed him the bag, he snatched it and scurried into another room. I’d tease him that he cared more about the damn treats than me. He’d loudly announced from another room that he already gulped down one. Audible snickers from everyone present filled the air and I laughed, too. This interaction replayed itself for many years and was always followed by a handwritten thank you note.

When I moved to the UK and visited stateside, I always made a point to see Dr. Edwards. I could have had cleanings done in England, but preferred to continue as his patient. Now I live in Washington. I called him in February 2020 and said I thought about visiting the Bay Area, wondered if he could fit me in. He said he’d be on vacation the week I planned to be in town. Neither of us could foresee shelter-in-place orders, the numbers of people who would test positive for COVID-19, or the more than 341,000 deaths due to the virus.

In his recent missive, Dr. Edwards shared the tough decision to retire. He said he did not want to take a risk of exposing others or himself to COVID-19. On the bottom of his typewritten letter, he handwrote, “I’ll never forget the kindness of the macaroons!”

I envisioned Dr. Edwards operating his practice well into his older adult years. I would listen as he updated me on whatever stage his son recently performed on and I would see his wife’s latest black-and-white photos framed on a wall. But this news of his early retirement is not just the loss of a dentist — it’s compounded by the loss of a relationship.

Someday when this virus is under control, I want to say good-bye in person, tell him he was The Best Dentist ever. I would bring a bunch of macaroons for him to binge on and wait for him to act like he doesn’t care to see me, but wants to dive into the bag of goodies instead. After my teeth were cleaned, he would examine them and tell me, “Your teeth are beautiful!” like he always did. And then I would receive a thank you letter days later for the treats. With all of the changes in my life, Dr. Edwards, and our relationship, was a constant and a light that I wish didn’t succumb to COVID-19.

M. Terry Bowman is an occupational therapy manager in mental health, writer, and photographer who lives in the Greater Seattle Area of Washington.