So last Sunday I’m at the BBQ joint around the corner treating myself to some ribs. About halfway through the last one, I chomped down on something that definitely was not meat. I rolled it around in my mouth and decided to face the music and check it out more closely.
OH NO. It’s a big chuck of tooth and it didn’t take my tongue very long to tell me that it came from a front tooth. Like the second one from the center of the upper front. Right there in plain sight of God and everyone else.
When I looked in the bathroom mirror my first thought was that all I needed was a cap saying “Roll Tide” to complete the picture.
Two days later and I’m plopped in my dentist’s chair while he takes x-rays, pokes around with some tools and does a lot of mumbling. I learned that at some point this tooth got a root canal. Also that seven years ago he filled it and left behind a notation on his charts, “Let’s hope for the best.”
Obviously the time limit on hope has now elapsed.
The dentist tells me I just have bad teeth. That I’ve not taken care of them. (I tell him I brush every morning and come to his office for cleaning every six months.) He tells me I have eaten too many sweets and sugar and teeth don’t get along very well. I plead guilty. That I come from a long line of men with a sweet tooth.
And while Daddy may have given me his sweet tooth, he did not give me his teeth. When he passed away at 86 he had one filling. He always claimed this was from being raised on well water that was not subject to Lord knows what kind of chemicals are in tap water today.
However, for much of his life this well water came from a bucket dropped down a dug well and I’ve never understood why such water that is standing still in a deep hole and can be the breeding ground for all kind of creepy, crawly things could be that beneficial. Besides from the time I was in the fifth grade until I finished high school I also drank well water, but it came from a pump stuck in the ground, not an open hole.
The dentist tells me that he can make a bridge, however, he is not sure how long the teeth he would anchor it to will be around.
He leaves it at, “Let me think it over and see what I might come up with.”
So I leave his office just like I came in–with a big hole where a rib-gnawing tooth used to be. Which means that if you see me you will immediately think of Hee Haw in all likelihood. And though it may be called for, don’t expect me in that Roll Tide cap.