The Ruffled Crow

I like to plan things out. Gather information, decide on a plan, and execute it. Buying my last 2 cars took about a month each, the tv two months. Took  3 months or so to plan summer camp.

Dentistry wasn’t much different – a month of sifting through online stuffs before settling on Doctor T. The execution, however, has been another thing entirely.

Alotta years ignoring, and incidentally (pun not intended) deadening, the pain made for a scene of devastation. In workman like fashion, Doc T has dived in done what he can for the bottom bunch. Fillings, root canals, and an extraction later, I hope he’s done with the bottom at least…

Next Monday, a mere 2 days away, he promises to begin on the uppers with a vengeance by pulling two of them. One per side. I assume that this will be to immediately scare the rest into submission. I would have thought they were already, having watched the bottom in progress, but he’s the Doctor.

Did I mention that it hurts? Did I note that it will hurt again? Alot?

My apologies for stating the obvious. I wasn’t trying to insult your intelligence nor certify my own as tepid, but to note that this is not an enjoyable process. It would help if I was bent that way, but alas. This is necessary, however, and well past due.

I am blessed with what some term as “Chalk Teeth”. They’ve been busy crumbling to dust ever since I got them. Most of my deciduous (baby) teeth were filled, so technically, more than a mouthful have crumbled on me.

Thanks to another quirk in my genetics, I am also allergic to Novocaine. This really isn’t a problem as Xylocaine or Lidocaine are prevalent alternatives, but as a kid it gave me quite a turn. Those filled deciduous teeth I mentioned? Yeah, they found out that my face swelled up like a playground ball with Novocaine. My dentist at the time, Dr. Hunger (no kidding!) was fine with not using Novocaine, unfortunately he refused to use anything else. After a few times of fillings with no anesthetic my parents thankfully found me another dentist.

This guy was huge, literally. At six foot seven he towered over 6 year old me. Before becoming my dentist, Dr Jack Nichols was Center on the Boston Celtics. Nice guy and he had some pretty cool toys in the drawer when we were done. Sacred Bull (Dad) wondered at the time how so big a guy could get such big hands in such a little kid’s mouth. No doubt Sacred Cow (Mom) noted that I had a big mouth back then…

For all the short stints of dentistry I’ve had in my adulthood, I like Dr T quite a lot. He’s been in the biz for over 40 years and, as I’ve noted, is workman-like in his approach, rather wry, and doesn’t believe he has all the answers. All qualities I appreciate. With his very sweet wife working the front desk it is essentially a capable Mom-n-Pop operation. It takes the edge of an unpleasant task in a wonderful way. For all that, I’m still not impressed with the waiting room magazines; I’ve already finished the National Geographic and I do not want to be forced to read a celebrity rag. If I could just remember to bring my book in from the car with me…

Well, wish me luck. Beginning Monday eating will be an adventure for several days and I can only hope that this will be the worst for a while. No telling what the appointment after this will bring…