The Dental Metaphor

In my life, I've broken a tooth or two - part of being invulnerable is finding out you're not. It's the last part and, if done properly, isn't too painful. While I could talk about the problems of having sore knuckles, elbows and knees on a morning this is a story about a tooth. Just one tooth.

The story begins many years ago with a sadistic dentist in Ohio. His name is unimportant. A seven year old clambered into a chair where he was to have his two front teeth out because the adult ones were pushing the young right out. The boy wasn't happy with the gas - dancing pretty pink elephants are a little freaky. So the dentist pulled the teeth with no anesthetic, leaving a 7 year old with a toothless scream that he used without spare. The dentist asked the mother to shut the kid up because he would scare the kids outside. Nice guy. I imagine it was a matter of time before someone rattled his teeth.

So for that reason, dentists aren't happy people for me to visit. And so, when I broke this particular tooth - this story is about only one tooth - I heard the crunch and felt the pain, and immediately allowed myself to fall into denial. There was absolutely nothing else that could have caused the pain and the cracking sound, but I was holding out for something better.

When the gum became swollen it was obviously an infection, but I held off for something better. That meant antibiotics that the dentist would prescribe before... doing something I probably wouldn't like. So I decided to wait and see if the swelling would go away - 3 days, I decided. And 3 days passed. The infection decreased, but the pain was still insistent and the gum wasn't healthy. A week later, I go see the dentist.

He looks inside the mouth. You confess it is probably broken. The dentist gives the knowing look. That bastard in Ohio probably stayed pretty busy for all these dentists to have that knowing look.

He taps. Tap, tap, tap. It all hurts but I'm waiting for it- dentists know their jobs and always have to hit the bad spot to give you the news. Tap, tap, Oww! He sticks the dental mirror in. He gets that have to do this look.

"The broken part", he says as he taps for effect, "is broken off and has slid into the gum. This has caused the infection and the pain."

The truth, ignored, doesn't set one free in the dentist chair.

"We'll extract that piece today and we'll put you on antibiotics."

We. One dentist. Doctors do it too. Why the 'we'? Is that a sneaky way to make me realize I'm a part of my treatment? Or is it some habit from an internship, when one spoke for a group? 'We'?

He calls for his face shield and forceps and, with a few sprays of lidocaine, topically numbs the gums around the area. He looks at me. He demonstrates to me why I go to him by simply saying, with a sigh, "This will hurt. There's not much I can do about it."

Good doc. I like it straight. I nod my assent and focus on breathing as he starts maneuvering for purchase on the bit of tooth. With the ceiling tiles not evoking warm fuzzy feelings, I close my eyes.

He pulls, he misses. A growl emits from an open mouth.
He pulls. He shakes slightly - not even a millimeter, likely - and he gets the growl.
He jerks.

People talk about seeing stars. I've never seen stars. I have seen the world implode on itself and then come back into the shape I'm more used to. This is what happened.

I go to the pharmacy, get my antibiotics, and enjoy a week without alcohol and crunchy things. And after the week, there's no pain and there's no swelling. A happy ending.

Some relationships are like that broken piece of tooth. Denial, pain and inflammation, treatment, normalcy. The greater the denial, the greater the pain and inflammation, the longer the treatment and the greater the recovery time to normalcy.