Something to aim for

Geologists occupy themselves endlessly with the nuances of pressure and time. That's all this planet really is, a giant rock in space, formed from a confluence of pressure and time. Every so often, she lets us know how imperfect that confluence is, by a rather spectacular planetary version of breaking wind. When that volcano erupts, regurgitating mountains of lava, who then arrives to aspirate the excess before it drowns the valley below? Who clears the overflowing rubble and fragments that have been churning in the fire of earth's belly and then flung into the stratosphere to greet the on-coming air traffic with a blanketing ash cloud? Alas, no one.

Thankfully, within the landscape of the dental surgery, the volcano of saliva, spent amalgam and burnt enamel has nowhere to go because a heroine stands up. The microbial mist, disease and droplets of blood disappear because the heroine holds aloft her Excalibur, the aspirator. Together, they serve to protect the patient from drowning in an ocean of infective particulates and distilled water. I daresay no one is born with the ambition of providing a patient with the dental equivalent of a bed bath. Here we have an utterly selfless pilgrim to the cause of patient comfort. All it takes is one woman and her tube.