I have a cavity. Three days now with this persistent toothache and itâ€™s not looking like its going to go away by itself. Itâ€™s been at least 10 years since Iâ€™ve been to a dentist, and Iâ€™m up late at night at the thought of going to one now. Sixteen teeth have been pulled from my mouth; most of them had roots and not just little ones. One I pulled out myself with a pair of pliars; sitting home and alone one night with a dentist visit scheduled the next day, I managed to loosen it up with my fingers a bit and then with one solid jerk and it was gone (one down, three to go.) I either had too many teeth or some just didnâ€™t want to come out, either way they were pulled, one by one. Actually, my teeth arenâ€™t that bad for a junky. The only serious dental issue I had was when my wisdom teeth came in after three years of heavy IV Heroin use. Only a lower in the back came in for awhile and I thought Iâ€™d be one of those lucky cats who donâ€™t need to have their wisdom teeth pulled. Not a chance. Not only did it come in underdeveloped and incredibly soft, but so did the other three and right at probably the worst point in my entire junky career. I thought for sure theyâ€™d just rot themselves out of my mouth and Iâ€™d be done with it. Stupid, stupid me. I spent a week kicking dope at a rehab in Minnesota, the whole time laying there in agony, trying to decide on which pain I should try to bargain with the invisible man in the sky for. I decided on the pain from my mouth, but got nothing in the way of a response (as usual.)
Eventually, I had them pulled and it was easy and over. I had suffered months for absolutely no reason at all. I shouldâ€™ve gone in the first day. I remember a time when I was working a customer service job, listening to someone on the phone, and I had thought I felt some food stuck to one of my molars. Thinking Iâ€™d better get it away from the rotting wisdom, I used my finger to ‘pick’ it out. It wasnâ€™t food. It was part of the wisdom itself and as soon as I had realized my mistake, it was far, far too late; pain, oh the fucking pain. Nowhere to run, nothing to do, and stuck inside my own fucking skin (again.) I left my job and went home, pouring Anbesol and whatever else I had around in great big gobs all over the inside of my mouth. Finally, when I hit the couch at home, I feel asleep and woke up with my mouth fairly quiet. I think the next day is when I made the appointment to have them pulled.
So wouldnâ€™t you know it? After fifteen years of eating drugs and ten of smoking cigarettes, I quit them all for the most part and of course have even more price to pay. I remember my father telling me a story about an army buddy of his not going to the dentist for about the same amount of time and then needing to fill twenty cavities. Maybe a story to scare (if so, its purpose has been served) or maybe a reality, I think today weâ€™re going to find out.