The Moment of Tooth

Having just finished watching the Obama-McCain debate (Barack was rock-steady and solidly on message; John… well, still seemed even at best nearly desperate, and clearly obstinately petty, and arguably overdue for retirement), I'm actually going to veer away from both politics and faith issues, and report a cautionary tale. 

This past Friday evening, conveniently just hours after my dentist's office had closed, I felt half of one of my molars break away. No pain, incredibly, but yike! I really value my teeth. 

So I pushed the piece back in place and there it somehow stayed until lunch on Saturday. Meanwhile I called the dentist's office, and his after-hours number, requesting an ASAP appointment to repair or do whatever might be necessary (despite my current uninsured status). And over lunch Saturday, the piece dropped out… and turned out to be a crown — not the kind under which the head rests uneasy, or are fated to roll in the dust, but a cap Dr. Lyme had put there himself a few years ago (when I did have insurance). 

The office called me back yesterday (Monday), and we set up an appointment for first-thing this morning (8:00 AM). I still dreaded news that the underlying, formerly-capped tooth had been rotting away, causing the crown to loosen. Nope; adhesive had merely worn out owing to a minor adjustment needed to allow for lateral stresses — the tooth was fine, and sound. 

Meanwhile, before he got down to business, I asked Dr. Lyme to do me a favor: to get rid of several books out there in his brand-new lobby, books I found personally offensive (one being Da(m)n Brown's The Dumb-Vinci Code; the other two or three I will not name, but were of the same disturbing ilk, and which I know and am in fact quite familiar with). And I explained why that is (which I've gone to at length here before), and suggested that if he wanted to carry offensive books, I could bring in my copy of Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses, Hitler's Mein Kampf (actually neither own nor want a copy), and the collected works of Lester Maddox (also don't own and don't want). 

In the momentary, surprisingly-not-very-tense silence, I realized something particularly foolish about my timing… and immediately (and rather vulnerably!) pointed it out to him and his lovely Caribbean assistant: 

There I was, flat on my back, feet actually higher than my head, and in a position I could not possibly get out of easily without prohibitively expensive damage to his equipment and my limbs… and here he sat, next to me, about to stick sharp metal objects in my mouth. And I chose that moment to criticize his office's reading material? Oh, boy. 

Still, being the gentleman he is, and not as vocal as yours-truly when he might take offense, he proceeded to re-secure my crown, and promise to remove the books. (You know, I really hate sounding like a conservative.) 

Then he had me bite down on a big wad of cotton to hold the crown in place. This also shut me up quite nicely… though I'll charitably assume that wasn't his intention.