Regret and Teeth

Part Two: The Angry Tooth


*shown is a crackling fire: powerful, seductive, mysterious... we pan out to see a homeless man warming himself over a burn-barrel*

"Come a little closer, friends, potential plasma donors, people who are hopefully CPR certified, and let me tell you the rest of the story of how one botched surgery and one little lie cost Sweet, Docile, Joan (or "S.D.J." as she is known in circles that even I consider seamy) everything*. I may be suffering from tuberculosis and I may or may not have fingers that are in the process of falling off, on account of my bitch-of-an-old-lady who cursed me**, but even I wouldn't trade places with this broad..."

Now, part of the story Ms.NurseyNurse left out was that in pulverizing my growing-in-my-sinus wisdom tooth, they also destroyed my far back left top molar. I wasn't aware of this immediately... on account of the drugs I was on (the ones the doctors gave me, too). I went home and was OK until I was eating some popcorn a couple of weeks later and, by that seemingly harmless act, got a Serious Infection!

It was pretty neat - a shell of a kernel had worked its way into my "pit" (ew) and festered for a few days (it actually became stinky. I wondered out loud to people about my Stinky Tooth but they avoided me for whatever reason)

An image of my festering pit

I lived inside Joan and told her what to do!

before it turned even grosser. I went to school for 10, as per usual, (I had an art class first thing in the morning, "Textiles and Something", taught by this marvelous woman who hurled abuses at me while allowing me to never show up and suck at art when I did go to class, while still giving me a 'C'. She had two very pronounced wall eyes and she would draw attention to them just to freak everyone out: "I can see you over there, failing to grasp the color wheel, Joan" she would say with her head facing away from me and I would say "On account of your Superior Peripheral Vision?" and then she would laugh this wonderful, deep, reckless laugh that left everyone, other than me, utterly silent: "Holy shit! Is she acknowledging the fact that she has wall eyes? Oh my God, just stare at your art!". Then she would say something way meaner to me about ignorance and lack of talent and how it must be lovely to be unaware of either. I love her still.) but by the middle of the afternoon my face had doubled in size -- this is what makes an infection serious, when it "fucks with your face" (as we all learned from Vampire Pam last season)!


My jaw was huge and hot to the touch and so, after I made my leisurely way home, my parents called the doctor and he had me come in right then (he was golfing and acted put-out by the whole thing... until he saw my Elephant Man jaw) as infections that close to your Think-Box are dangerous. I went in and they shoved a sucky tube in my pit (ew) and the nurse pressed (not so gently!) on my giant face to get the pus to flow into the tube (which went right by my eyes! Eee!) and the pus was all green and yellow and slightly chunky... with a slight acidic-nutty flavor. Ha! Sorry! Then they put a "wick" in the infected pit (stop it, already!) so as to facilitate the slow-drain of the remainder of the pus over the next few days. (Was it as incredible to read that sentence as it was to write it?) They sent me off with some heavy duty antibiotics and I was on my way. I really had a good time with that experience. I love that stuff on everyone but my kids. My children get a serious fever and I am Freak Mom, cannot-handle-my-shit-Mom, but with everyone else I am a delighted spectator. So far, the whole wisdom teeth out thing was pretty awesome until I went to my regular dentist to see about a bum tooth that was grieving me (emotionally speaking only).

Here's what happened with the rest of the phone conversation:  

Me: Yes, as a matter of fact, it does hurt... that's why I'm so worried. (Joan, Joan, Joan)  
Receptionist: Oh, my! Well, that's a different matter entirely. I can fit you in for 4 today.  
M: Oh, thank you, (sucker!) I'll be there.

Now, I'll tell ya, I felt so damn clever at the time. Ha, screw you, "Waiting List"! Up yours, "Order" - I'm getting mine and I'm getting it nows! I nodded to myself, got my coffee and smokes and left for my appointment; sure that I had made all right with the world again.  

In The Chair

Dr.NerdBreath: Hello, Joan, Sandy tells me you have pain?  
Me: Boy, do I ever!  
Dr: Is it constant?  
M: *Oh shit, we're going to get into specifics?* Um, no... I wouldn't say constant, per se... just sometimes.  
Dr: When do you feel the pain?  
M: *hurry up and fix my goddamn tooth* Well, um, when I bite down... it hurts. *I realize at his point that I don't know if and when cavities are supposed to hurt*  
Dr: Any other times?   
M: Not really? Sometimes... randomly?
Dr: Okay, can you bite down for me?  
M: Okay? *I have become acutely insecure and fearful of the events which I find myself surrounded by*  
Dr: And what type of pain do you feel? Throbbing, sharp?
M: *You are killing me* Um, I guess, throbbing... ish? *panic begins: I think a lot about crying*  
Dr: Unh huh, unh huh... I think you are having pain do to your bite. And how bad is the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?  
M: *shit, shit, shit* Like a... 4.5? Not, you know, unbearable or even really serious or anything...  
Dr: Well, the pain you are describing would be caused by an improper meeting of the top and bottom teeth.  
M: *No, jerk, I have a cavity the size of Detroit. What half of your class did you graduate in?*   Okay? *too afraid to point out cavity*  
Dr: I can fix it up in no time! 
M: Really?

Dr: Yes,  I am just going to !!grind down the plains of your molars!! until we get a better fit :)
M: *Sweet Baby Jesus, save me! Lord, I am sorry for my sinnin' ways - I'm Catholic, sorta, and it's what we do! This is not what was supposed to happen! Please, Mr.DentistProfessional, don't grind away my teeth - they don't even hurt! They're perfect; don't you know about my Superior Genetics? Do you not have eyes that function!*  Uh... o... kay? *tears form but do not fall from my eyes*
Dr: Okey-doke, let's see what we can do...


What do you do?! What can you possibly do in this situation? Jump up and say "No, I don't believe in your backwater Voodoo teeth filing!" or say "No, I was lying! Now please take time out of your very busy and very ordered schedule to deal with me first - as is the Natural Order!" ? Today, if ever I was so foolish as to do something like this again (not likely, I may be slow but having your teeth needlessly ground away really has a way of driving home a lesson), I would get myself out of it. I would feign a heart attack or a seizure or a demonic possession if I had to but I'd get my ass out of there.

What did I do?

Well, my friends, I laid there, trying not to cry, for an eternity while he ground away.   

I smelled my teeth being wiped out of existence and I remained motionless!


That's what I did.

Doesn't that beat all? Instead of bravely back-flipping out of the office while yelling “I am just the Ghost of Joan – this wasn't real and doesn't count! Read up on your physics and you'll realize we're all probably just holograms anyway!”, I waited while I prayed angrily and desperately (like how you are supposed to) until he stopped.

Dr: Bite down.
M: *Whimpering* okay *utterly defeated*
Dr: How's that feel? Any better? :)
M: Completely, it's like a miracle! I'm great!  ;_ ; 
Dr: Good! You know, I am noticing something in here; I wonder if it has been bothering you?
M: *finally, we are getting down to the real work*  Oh?
Dr: Yes, your molar on the top at the back of your mouth is pretty much missing.
M: What now?
Dr: Yes, there is only about 25% of the tooth left in tact... have you had an injury?
M: No... I had my wisdom teeth out a while back... and that tooth felt scratchy after but...
Dr: Hmm, well, we'll have to get that taken care of. I can make you a new mold to fit over the remaining tooth.
M: Right now? :(
Dr: Might as well! :)


So it continued. I had a cheap metal tooth prosthesis (thanks, Borderline Poverty!) cobbled onto my gnarled molar as I thought about my life and why everything sucks. I never did reach a firm conclusion but this experience did cement my hunch that the world is full of jerks. That and that I should get a giant tiger that I could ride on and command with my thoughts. I was there a long time.

I got to walk around and tell my tale of woe: "The Ballad of the Angry tooth and The Sad Tooth",  I called it when repeating it over and over again to my dad. Things went as well as can be hoped for in times such as these until I went back to my Mr.DentistProfessional for a checkup:

Dr: *holding up my x-rays* Wow! Do you know you have a tooth that is almost entirely metal?
M: Um, yes, you did that...
Dr: Hmm, well, I should tell you that the root of that tooth will recede from the metal (it's toxic! teehee!) and that this tooth eventually will fall out. :)
M: What?! :(
Dr: Yeah, we don't often use metal anymore...
M:  :/
Dr: But it could last years, no telling, just, you know, keep an eye on it. :)

And there it is. It was somewhat my fault, I guess, and I have finally come to terms with that. More importantly, The Angry Tooth has held up to this day and still startles every dentist I visit:  

"Hey! Did you know..."

Yeah, Jerk, I know, I know. 





*Drama! End scene!
**He actually has leprosy - which is easily cured with antibiotics nowadays so don't feel weird about eating any stew he offers you. 
***It has come to my attention that my timeline is all sorts of messed up and that I was 17 when I had my teeth out. It matters not at all and I'm not sure why I pointed it out.