Tooth Hurty (Cigar Smoke 7-10-08)

I just got back from the dentist. And, you know me, I don’t like to complain. Bitch and moan? Maybe. But complain? Never. Let’s just say I would like to share some things with you.

First, I have had a long and painful history with my teeth. When I was a kid, I had to have all my baby teeth pulled. They just would not fall out on their own. Oh, one time one of my teeth was loose and an uncle came up to me and, after asking me to point out the loose tooth, yanked it right out of my damn youthful head and held it in front of me and said, “Is this the one?” Uncles are kidders.

Then when my permanent teeth came in, there was good news and bad news. The good news: my teeth were incredibly strong. The bad news: they were all over my mouth, running up against each other at right angles, pushing into each other. Kind of looked like a used car lot after a tornado.

So I had to have braces for eight years. Yes, eight years of the orthodontist tightening those damn things so I couldn’t eat for three days, and eight years of those little sucky rubber bands stretching from the top of my mouth to the bottom of my mouth.

And they looked so good, too. I remember in high school going up to a girl with my braces on my teeth and zits on my face and unshaven tufts of hair next to the zits on my face and a few bloody sheared-off ex zit spots and I asked her out and I remember her saying, “Uh, maybe. I didn’t see the weather report this morning. Has hell frozen over yet?”

And when I finally got my braces off, things didn’t get much better. I always had problems with my teeth. A mouthful of cavities and extractions. I’ve had root canals and impacted molars and I’ve had bridges put in and crowns put on and wisdom teeth pulled out and gold fillings put everywhere. So many gold fillings that I count my head as my biggest long-term investment.

Now remember, I’m not complaining. I’m sharing. I remember about 15 years ago I had a memorable dental experience. I had a wisdom tooth taken out. Man, that was an experience. I went to a dentist over in Arcadia and before he started to go to work, I told him I needed extra Novocain. And, like all dentists, he ignored me and started to pull the tooth.

This was a big tooth. And after about a half-hour of trying to yank this sucker, my Novocain started to wear off and then the pain took my breath away, along with 10 years of my life. The dentist said, “I guess you were right about the Novocain.” I said, “I guess I’ll be right when I pull one of your teeth out with a plumber’s wrench.”

OK, that’s all in the past. So about a month ago I notice something outside one of my lower teeth on the right side of my mouth. It’s bulging up, but the tooth isn’t really hurting. So my dentist suggests that I go see a microscopic endontics guy.

So I go to see the guy. And he tells me I need to have the tooth pulled and then I need to have an implant. I inquire as to the approximate cost of this procedure. He tells me the approximate cost. I tell him that’s approximately what I used to pay for a car.

After a fairly long pause, he says, “Well do you want to go ahead with this?” I say, “You know, the tooth doesn’t really hurt me. What would happen if I just didn’t do anything?” He looked at me for a few seconds and said, “My kid couldn’t get into a good college, that’s what would happen.” Those microscopic endontics guys are kidders. No, what he really said was that the tooth was infected and if I ignored it I would lose that tooth and all the other teeth around it would become infected and I would have to gum my words when I ordered in restaurants and if I ordered mashed potatoes I would end up with mathed pimentos.

So I decided to have him pull the tooth. Well, I was in there for over an hour. He tried to pull it. He couldn’t. The tooth was too damn big. So he had to drill and cut the killer tooth into four quarters. Divide and conquer, baby.

So after the tooth was out, he told me I couldn’t have anything hot or hard. And I couldn’t have any coffee and I couldn’t even smoke. I asked him if I could eat meat. He said no. I asked him if I could eat donuts with the left side of my mouth only. He said no. I asked him if I could have sex. He said no.

Finally, I said, “Well, could I at least play the piano?” He said, “OK, you can do that.”
I said, “Great! I never could play it before I had the tooth out.”

Contact former Pasadena Weekly Publisher Jim Laris at jim.laris@mac.com.