All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Back Teeth

by Thomas M. Pender

I’ve lived in Macon, Georgia for 12 years.  In that time, I have had two rear molars yanked out of my head.  I see a cause-and-effect issue here.  With the rampant toothlessness in the South, I believe I’ve stumbled upon a geographic germ.  Aside from my wisdom teeth, I had every tooth given to me by God when I entered Georgia.  Now, I am two short of a full set.

However, it’s not Georgia that I find rantworthy.  It’s the medieval elements of “modern” dentistry.

I’ve never been afraid to go to the dentist.  This probably has to do with being blessed with trouble-free adult teeth.  I go, I get x-rayed, cleaned, and then I leave.  Dentistry is my friend.

Then, a few years ago, I dozed off on my couch.  In a few unconscious minutes, I was awakened by searing pain in my jaw.  I narrowed the daggers down to one tooth, and made an appointment to see a dentist.  At the office, I was asked if my tooth was sensitive to cold.  When I informed the dentist that cold water actually dulled the pain, he winced and told me that was bad news.  It wasn’t a simple toothache, it was a problem down in the nerves.  Long tooth story short, I had to get it pulled.

This is the 21st Century.  We have moved beyond hammers and chisels in doctors’ offices.  Techniques and instrumentation now make it relatively comfortable for patients during complicated procedures.  Unfortunately, the century has apparently left dentistry in the dust of the 1800s.

After I got two shots of Novocaine, the dentist turned around for the next implement and brought out . . . a pair of pliers!  Oh, sure, it was a nice, new, shiny pair of pliers.  It was a sleek design, curved at the end with a tooth-shaped compartment at the tip, but it was a pair of pliers, nonetheless.  She positioned the neuvo-pliers over my tooth, and as she braced to yank, I started waving my arms all about.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can feel everything you’re doing,” I responded, thinking the Novocaine allotment had been a bit sparse.  She gave me a third shot and waited a few minutes for it to kick in.  Then she re-assumed the yanking position.  I again waved my arms.

“I can feel everything you’re doing!” I injected (pun intended), my vocal words in italics.

“Oh, well, you’re going to feel some pressure.”

As most dental patients know, “pressure” is dentist code for “searing, excruciating pain.”  I felt the tooth slide out of its socket, and by the end of that day, my pain was gone.

Years later, without the nap inducer, I began to feel a toothache on the opposite molar of my lower jaw.  It intensified, and I made an appointment at the local dental college.  (Side note: Dental colleges are great for procedures, as they are highly skilled and very inexpensive.)  This set of pliers weren’t even disguised as a sleek Porsche of the dental world.  This was a straight Chevy Nova of the dental world.  I swear I saw the Craftsman logo on the side!  The pain, this time due to an infection, left with the tooth, and I was grateful even for the toolbox implement at that point.

Still, I call upon the dental engineers of the world (if, indeed, dental engineers exist) to come up with something a bit – or a ton – more concentrated on the comfort of patients.  I don’t care if it’s based on hydraulics or digital photography or astrology, but for the love of all that is good and merciful in the world, please, dentistry, invent something that replaces the pliers!

I mean now!  Go.  Research.  Design.  Get it done.

Now!!!!!!