A Day at the Dentist

Dentistry has come along way since the stone ages when rocks took the place of missing teethe. Yet today at the Better Smiles, visions of the stone ages hit me right in my face. 

   It has been awhile since I had seen Dr. Death  at the Better Smiles Dental Clinic in Oceanside, California. Of course I would have rather have my gall stones removed, or a head tumor than to sit in a dental chair. Yet there I was, almost a half hour early for my three thirty.
   I signed an insurance sheet giving away my undeniable rights. Any mistakes by Dr. Death would be billed to God. I needed to pay what my insurance couldn't. At least I had them provide some water for my dry mouth and turn off the cartoon show on the T.V. Next to me sat a  man reading a magazine with his companion, a walker, by his side.
   It had been a long day and I felt confident I could survive another hour or-so. It was the 'or-so' that became my nemesis. My appointment was set for three thirty. I took my buddy, a book, to keep me company. It was the story about Charles Lindbergh and his Spirit of St. Louis.
   Charles Lindbergh had built the Spirit in San Diego for a bit over $10,000. The plane had covered over 2,000,000 miles without an accident. In May of 1927, he made the flight over the Atlantic and landed in Paris, France. Reading that story made time fly while I waited for Dr. Death to dig up a canal in a front tooth before taking an impression for a bridge.
   At exactly three forty-five the office manager informed me it would be another fifteen minutes, or so, before I would be placed in the cockpit. Well I knew exactly what she meant, by her comforting words, "or so". The four dental cubicles were full of patients. I continued to read about Lindbergh and found it interesting that his grandfather invented porcelain inlays in about the 1900's in Detroit. At the time only gold was used to fill the hole.
    I felt proud to have come this far, although the ride on the El Camino Trail took me a bit too long. Finally at four o'clock I was ushered to cuticle number one. She placed a bib over me and I continued to read my book, although the Spirit of St. Louis became mighty bored. It wished to fly away. She took a little pick and poked around my gums. I let out a loud scream!
   "Are you working on the correct tooth" I asked the dental hygienist. Sorry we made an error. I thought we were working on #27 but it should have been #16. I can't not account for the error. The doctor reentered but the assistant was not ready for the root canal. I had not idea I would be inside the cockpit for three hours.  
   I have never seen such awful gums. I defused the remarks while I read about Lindberg overcoming oxygen deprivation, sleep and the thought the reliable plane would run out of gas. Instead of gas, the good Dr. Death slithered into the room and shot my gums up with Novocain. By that time Lindbergh had returned to the good-old-U.S. A to a tumultuous reception.  
    Dr. Death entered, ever-so-silently. He did some probing and had the assistant take another ex-ray. Now it was about four thirty. I told the assistant she was working on the wrong tooth. She removed herself and returned. Dr. Death returned and shot my left bottom gum with Novocain.
    "Dr. Why don't you go to the other cubicle. I am in no hurry."  It was now going on five o'clock, adn the left side of my mouth now felt numb. Fifteen minutes later Death reentered. The the sound of his drill pierced my ear drum, but I felt nothing. At last, at last that the drilling stopped and he used a little tit to round out the hole.
    I read the part in the Lindbergh story where his windows had iced up. I also felt cold and decided to flee for an overcoat while Dr. Death went to another cubicle. I thought the seasons were changing and I might just catch a cold. The assistant now made some gruel to be used for a temporary. It had to wait for a mold to be made.
    The task now finished, I thanked God I could still stand up. My legs worked and I knew I needed a good fix for all of my stress. I went to the Chinese Buffet and can't count how many plates I needed. I had to eat on my right side, but it did not matter, I filled my stomach with shrimp, oysters, clams, pork, soup...more fish, cucumbers and turnips.
    About that time, Lindbergh had eaten his second sandwich when he spotted the Irish coast. Eve though the right side of my mouth hurt, the Chinese Buffet rewarded me for my stay in the dentist chair.
    At the Chinese buffet, A few kids were swimming in a vat of ice-cream. When they left, I dove into a few spoons of chocolate chip. And the good news is that I am still alive to have you read about my day at the dentist.

   And even better news, two days later on Saturday I woke up without pain. I woke up no longer wishing to put a gun to my head. The new tooth took, and now I could eat without pain. I changed the name of Dr. Death to Dr. Life. I celebrated by riding the Metro-Link out of Oceanside to Los Angeles.
    And oh yes, I found out that Charles Lindbergh's Grandfather invented porcelain crowns. Among his other scientific exploits, he also was a dentist and no doubt became the driving influence in Lindbergh's life.

Nuts and Bolts for the day: Mr. Folk-Lore wishes to build a stadium for the Chargers. That is bull-crap. We should have a day when the homeless can have teeth implanted in their mouth, for free. Why not, even if Obama care didn't, I did. To my readers, brush and floss every day and stay away from sticky candy.