Tooth

March 2, 2015

Greetings from the pact,

Five men stand around the hole, some holding sledges or shovels, one with a pick over his shoulder.  They are wearing hardhats, all of them in various shades of denim, brown and blue, but one uniform coating of grime on all of them. They are sweating around a hole in the concrete. Each in turn steps into the maw, swings a tool or pulls up a rock or shovelful of dirt.

There is a Cat excavator pawing at the soil beneath the pavement, gouging the earth free, pulling it up in enormous bucketsful, ripping roots as it clears the surface, swinging deftly around the men and dropping the load in an idling dump truck nearby.  Then pirouetting back to the hole, stabbing back into the dirt, a little deeper this time.  The stack behind the cab bellows black smoke as the engine guns, driving the bucket into the dirt, making the hole where there once was no hole.  Steel grinding into stone and dirt, violent and determined, shredding the earth and concrete.

At least that was the image I had while my dentist was working on me.

I might have been going through an out of body experience; I had been trying to suspend myself from the activity as my dentist went about his business.  It was a natural self-defense mechanism.

There were several hands in my mouth along with equipment of various sorts, ranging in size from a delicate interrogation tool, designed by the CIA I believe before the whole waterboarding thing got popular, all the way up to a 22 pound hooked crowbar whose original purpose was to dismantle deep sea oil derricks.  So you can see why I let my imagination run away with me.

All of this to remove a tooth I had grown very attached to. 

Before I wander too far away, I must state here that I love my dentist.  Not romantic love, more like Stockholm syndrome kind of infatuation.  He is a nice guy, very good at what he does, has good intentions.  Huge hands, though.

I already know that in the scheme of things this is a pretty minor event. It’s not major surgery; I didn’t lose something valuable that alters my quality of life in a meaningful way.  Except for the drama in I fabricated you could say it was hardly worth mentioning.

You should also know that the extraction took place in a one of the most modern dental facilities you can imagine.  All the latest equipment, administered by compassionate, competent professionals.  I was reclining in a very comfortable, Shiatsu Massage chair, watching a flat screen TV on the ceiling.  So there’s not a lot to complain about.

Unless you count the hole someone dug in my head. 

There was a golden age when I believed in the Tooth Fairy.  Teeth fell out of their own accord, perhaps with a little coaxing from my curious wiggling finger, and were wrapped with due respect and stored in a place of honor where the Tooth Fairy would exchange it for a nickel.  Ah, the innocent memories of childhood.

I dare say there will not be a time in my future where I look back with nostalgia on this exchange, where I sat in a very comfortable chair while a dozen people tortured me until I gave up a tooth, at which time I paid them thousands of dollars.

I am aware of the inevitable truth that my body is decaying.  Slowly eroding, breaking down, wearing out, flaking off.  In spite of my cheery disposition, rust never sleeps. 

It does illustrate to me that I pretty much take my body for granted.  I respect it, I feed it, take good care of my health, try to make choices that will give me the longest most active life.  But with all of that I assume that my body will cooperate.  That if properly maintained it will run forever.  That is not in the pact. 

A silly event such as losing a tooth, or having one taken, reminds me that the deal we have is renewed daily.  Every day we invest in our health, in our well-being, and in turn we get to enjoy the benefits of living in the body we have.  Tomorrow the pact is renegotiated with age, with slightly different terms, and it is up to up to us to choose to agree to it and reinvest.

I will not go quietly into that good night, but neither will I rail against the inequity of the pact.  It is part of life to defend ourselves against the ravages of the world, and of the passing days.  We wake up each morning with this new version of us, sometimes a little worse for wear, sometimes missing a tooth or a quick twitch we once had.  But we also gain insight, wisdom, the ability to adapt to what we are given.  Whatever the pact includes, it is worth celebrating, worth starting over with and paying into another day.  But chewing very carefully.

Hope this finds you grinding the rust,

David

Copyright © 2015 David Smith