Tooth Trauma

I was 6 or 7 when my father began bragging (in his sarcastic manner) about how many hundreds of dollars was invested in my teeth.

This comes to mind today as I learned just a few hours ago that I will require another root canal. The dentist showed me the x-ray and pointed out the various items that have been installed in my skull over the years: caps, crowns, fillings...and plenty of others that I have forgotten about.
This particular tooth is a problem child that has kept me awake and in pain for three days now. GODDAMN the shit hurts.
This tooth nearly killed me about three years ago when I neglected the toothache and infection for so long that I developed blood poisoning. My wife is quick to remind me of the evening, some time during the infancy of our relationship, that I lay in a fit if pain on the floor of her dorm. (I remember "Modern Love" by Peter Gabriel playing.)

Today I was prescribed Tylenol 3- a prescription I was anxious and quick to fill.
I usually make it a point to avoid taking pills at all times so that when the situation requires them, I will enjoy the maximum "rewards".
I took one of my little treasures around lunch time and the pain subsided. I was overjoyed. Elated.
An hour and a half later I was writhing in pain. I took another, and another, and now a third and the pain is still driving me fucking insane.

So, fuck the root canal. I am going to have them pull the bastard. I'm an Okie by birth and enjoy an inherent right to be toothless and barefoot. Now I only lack corn liquor to be the complete package....................


When I was 10 or so my mother took me to the cheapest dentist in town, Dr. Hooper.
He occupied one of those anonymous office spaces that are buried in deteriorating downtown buildings. This one was in the ghost town of Chickasha, Oklahoma.
We entered that building that I had seen a million times but had never invested a second's thought to. We got into the elevator that very could have been a time machine to the 1950's since everything past that point was outdated. The smell of old carpet and mildewey wood was everywhere. (A lot of carpet- I think time has since carpeted the walls and ceiling in my memory of the place....)

The office had an ancient receptionist who wasn't friendly at all. All of the other patients were elderly and the place didn't seem very sanitary.

I don't remember much in-between but I ended up in that chair with Dr. Hooper fingering around in my mouth. I was there for one toothache but I also had a loose baby tooth that was still planted enough that I hadn't tried to get it out myself.
I needn't give it another thought: Hooper spotted the loose tooth, laid a finger on it and quickly rolled it out of my mouth in a quick movement. Of course, this hurt and blood began to fill my mouth.
"Is that all you came here for?"

Unfortunately there was a lot more work for him to do. Drill and fill, drill and fill.

If you've ever seen the 80's remake of "Little Shop of Horrors" then you will likely remember Steve Martin's antique drill. Dr. Hooper had one and he used it on me. It was a strange looking machine: a belt driven robotic arm; and it was very rough and loud. It rattled my whole head violently. It was a nightmare.

But, Dr. Hooper worked cheap. That's why we were there.

Years later he was arrested for writing illegal prescriptions.

I need to go lie down.