Grandpa's Teeth

 

My grandfather lived until three weeks shy of his one hundred and second birthday. He died with all his hair, and with all his teeth. The hair was still on his head, but the teeth were in a jar on the dining room buffet. Over the years, as each tooth would fall out of his head, he would put them in that jar. On those occasions where a tooth would come out, I would learn of it first hand from Grandpa. He would proudly pull that jar off of the back shelf of the buffet and point out the latest addition. My grandfather was a bit of a character, but he taught me a good lesson. Brush my teeth and see the dentist on a regular basis.

Friday I went to the dentist for the first time in over five years. I had a dentist in Florida, but after moving to Chicago I kind of let that slide until recently when I developed a persistent pain in my mouth. I had a bad tooth. So I called the insurance company and they sent me a list of dentists in their plan. I picked out Lincoln Dental for four reasons. First reason, excellent reviews. Second reason, very close to my house. In fact, on the same street. Third reason, the building they were in was spotless and modern. Not like some of the other dentists around here who let weeds grow up between the cracks in the sidewalk and have more dirt on their windows than the window Scout smooshes her nose against. Fourth reason, is that the office seems to be totally female. My thinking here is that a female dentist just might be more gentle than a man with giant hands. It turns out I was correct in my decision. Clean, close, and no pain. It didn't even bother me when she went into my mouth with that drill bit that makes your whole head vibrate. The doctor told me that I had to get a root canal, something that I've never experienced before. That scared the hell out of me because of all the horror stories I've heard. No horror here. It was totally painless, until I got the bill. Even with insurance, that hurt.