Diary of An Angry Tooth

Personally, I hate teeth; they are a necessary evil. My oral history is filled with bad teeth. This past Friday I had to have an angry wisdom tooth dug out by a small town country dentist. This guy played pain tag for a week, leaping from tooth to tooth. I wasn't exactly sure who the pain culprit was. After an office visit both dentist and I decided to wait it out, to see if the real pain meister would please stand up. Let us know before we drill, baby drill.

And he did. Thursday, he revealed himself in the form of breathtaking pain whenever the tongue came too near or the jaw closed. From jaw to ear, no doubt about it, it was the last wisdom tooth remaining. And he wasn't going down without one last opinion.

I have dental insurance, yet could not afford an oral surgeon which my dentist recommended due to the "walking roots" of this tooth. After checking prices and considering the two kids I have enrolled in college, an oral surgeon wasn't a choice.

I drove 30 miles away to the drowsy town of Sardis where a well-seasoned country dentist operating in a circa 1960's house obliged my request for removal. Bless his caring heart, he pried, elevated, injected numerous sleepy juice injections into my jaw and gassed me away for 2.5 hours to get it out.

I now have the tooth with its gnarled roots on a saucer. Once I get them out, I have a tendency to add to my saved collection. Yes, it's weird. Guess it costs too much just to throw teeth away . . .