The Tooth is Out There
Call Mulder! It’s a conspiracy.
It doesn’t cost this much to patch a tire, I could patch part of my roof, buy a cheap car or re - sod the back yard. I could almost pay my mortgage twice. I could fly somewhere first class. I could shop at Pottery Barn instead of Poverty Barn!
It’s a tooth. Not even a front tooth, somewhere where it would have to match. I would be willing to have a tooth that was an unpopular color or print - like a puke green car or pink aluminum siding.
And it’s so damn small! Little! It’s not like a new liver or replacement lungs or even a kidney. A damn tooth.
I’m putting a diamond ring in my mouth. A pendant, a tennis bracelet. To chew my food. I’m going to have to eat better quality food now. I mean if I’m going to have the Bionic Tooth in there I’m going to have to eat Real Food.
No more Ramon noodles or store brand spaghetti. The Bionic Tooth will have none of that plebian fare. I’m going to have to shop Designer Grocery Stores, Specialty Markets and Boutique Bakeries.
The dentist. My dentist. When I called this morning they said I would know the building because they had a Beaver with a Toothbrush out front.
It could be worse. I was imagining a gigantic plastic beaver with a huge toothbrush. It’s on the damn sign!
A great big grinning beaver. This does not lend the whole operation a veneer of professionalism.
When you are putting sharp impliments in my mouth and charging me for it. I want a veneer of professionalism. I also, don’t want Mickey Mouse in the room with me. I’m going to be under going very expensive dental procedures? I’m not looking for Disney Babies or even worse, being in what amounts to a ward. I want my own room.
I want to see many, many, many well maintained tanks of laughing gas. I want to see the walls papered with uplifting messages about how much we all hate pain and that pain and pain causers are evil and should die. I do not want to see toy cars and kiddy magazines.
I’m paying for this guys subscription to Highlights! and Seventeen. Sara Michelle Geller and Katie Holmes staring at me balefully does not make me feel happy. Keanu Reeves staring at me balefully would be better or if Doctor Beaver must subscribe to women’s magazines, how about Judy Dench or Serena Williams watching over me.
He did have a neat toy my dentist at home didn’t have. He had a teeny camera that sent pictures to a monitor so I could see what he was seeing. That was cool. It was not cool that this dentist had a very expensive blood pressure jobby and a pulse oximeter. I did not love his hygienist lecturing me on my blood pressure; if you can’t measure it yourself, don’t hector me on it. No one has a watch? And he needs a pulse ox machine? What the hell does he do there? This did nothing for my teeth grinding issue or my blood pressure issue.
That Life Support beeping sound is not conductive to calmness and mellow thoughts. Beep Beep You Gonna Die In the Chair Beep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
He agreed with my initial diagnosis of Broken Tooth and showed me how broken it was. He let me see my other crown. He even pointed out an additional small cavity. He was getting a touch greedy at that point.
So after all this, he put some kind of dental band-aid on my tooth. Why can’t he just put a dental cast on my tooth and leave it at that? They make very butch casts now that you can get wet and everything. I don’t need a prosthetic tooth at all, really. I could just go back to see him every couple of weeks for a touch up. This works for me.
This would not work for Dr. Teeth. He wants the big bucks.
Sucks being him then. I don’t have the big bucks! I don’t even have the moderately sized bucks. I have little, tiny bucks. My money needs vitamins and extra iron just to make it to the end of the month. It is not healthy money. It’s sickly and under sized. It is not athletic money; no one picks it to be on their team. I think it wets the bed. It has asthma and spends a lot of time in its room with its imaginary friends: Retirement fund and Rainy Day Money. It talks to itself a lot.