Melvin's blog

Nshima & Curry

Melvin's  Blog

Nshima & Curry

DENTISTS DRILL HOLES IN YOUR WALLET

After visiting my dentist twice in eight days
and handing him a week's wages, I'm left
with a nagging question: When God gave
us teeth, did he really know what they would
cost us?

I have my doubts.

If he did, he would have made our teeth out
of titanium. And he would have let plaque
grow on Mars instead, so NASA could
make another amazing discovery.

I've spent a fortune on dental cleanings,
X-rays, fillings, root canals, toothpaste,
toothbrushes, dental rinse, mouthwash and
dental floss. Not to mention all the aspirin I
need when I have a toothache.

Part of the money must have done some
good because I still have most of my teeth.
At least that's what my dentist would
have me believe.

I visit him twice a year to have my teeth
examined. Skipping any of these visits is
against the law. It's a violation of Section 2,
Paragraph 5 of the Uniform Dental Code,
which states: "Every six months, all U.S.
residents must put their mouths through
unbearable torture. Violators may be forced
to surrender their teeth, as well as their
ability to chew."

Dentists are a lot like mechanics: They both
make you wait a long time. They both use
noisy tools. And they both act as if you've
been grossly negligent.

My dentist always seems to look in my
mouth and shake his head, as though he has
just spotted the remains of his cat. Maybe
that's why he puts me through all that torture.

During my last dental visit, I had to keep my
mouth open for at least 10 minutes while he
did some major excavating. I think he was
searching for gold.

He spent so much time in my mouth, I knew
I'd have to pay through my nose.

I was having one of my teeth crowned, a
tooth that is so far back in my mouth, I didn't
even know it existed. But my dentist had
shown me an X-ray and the signs of decay,
mentioning two words that drove fear into
me: root canal. I could avoid a root canal by
having the tooth crowned, he said. That was
all I needed to hear.

He began by giving me novocaine, which
was supposed to put me at ease -- once
I recovered from the shock of having a
3-inch needle stuck in my gums.

After he squeezed the syringe for an
excruciating five seconds, my lips began
to swell up and I knew exactly how it feels to
fight Mike Tyson.

Of course, the assault on my mouth was
only just beginning. The dentist used
cutting, grinding and drilling tools on that
hapless tooth. Every now and then, he
stuck a vacuum hose into my mouth. I think
he needed more room and was hoping to
suck out my tongue.

Of course, my tongue kept getting in the
way. I've trained it to seek out foreign
objects.

Before giving that tooth a temporary crown,
the dentist had to take an impression. His
first impression was a bad impression. So
were the next two.

Each time, he shoved a small container
filled with a dark, pasty substance against
my teeth. After it hardened, he yanked it off
with the force of a mechanic turning a
wrench. By the fourth time, he managed to
get a good impression. He had apparently
gotten enough practice.

As soon as he removed my bib, I escaped
to the front office. The bill was rather steep,
of course, but I couldn't complain.

My mouth was too swollen.

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