by CLINT YOUNTS
Normally, I use this here space in your newspaper to express some bellyachin’. But, today, I want to discuss some other ailment that began as a simple toothache but quickly developed in a sore spot in another body region.
It all began with a rather painful irritation to one of my four wisdom teeth (perhaps now you have a grasp of my vast source of refutable knowledge), and after a visit to a certain dental establishment that is just one link of this particular chain of clinics, my pain began to creep further south, stopping along the way to take a chomp out of my wallet, before my hide was as chapped as Lady Godiva’s after a long ride on a misty day.
I’m not a guy who will run off to see a doctor or a dentist, in this case, for insignificant maladies. If I believe a laceration might not heal properly with an alcohol rinse and a tube of Super Glue, I might see a doctor. If a sinus infection doesn’t clear up with allergy pills and expired doggie antibiotics, I might call for a doctor’s appointment. And if gargling with salt water and a daily swig of Wild Turkey can’t cure a tooth ache, I head on over to see a dentist.
I would’ve gone to see my regular dentist, a man I’ve trusted with my chompers for years, if it hadn’t been for a coupon for a $29 exam and cleaning, and that included x-rays, something I figured would be helpful in determining the cause of the pain and putrid discharge that pooled around the back of my mouth every morning. I figured seeing my regular dentist would cost me three times that amount, and being a frugal shopper and all, I thought I’d try this dental donjon (look it up).
The folks at this new place were pleasant enough and seemed knowledgeable of ailments of the ivories. But I got a little queasy when the young dentist, whose accent incidentally reminded me of the move “Slumdog Millionaire,” informed me that all four wisdom teeth should come out, and all of my fillings, some that I acquired in my adolescence and have grown quite fond of, need to be removed and replaced with metals that hadn’t come from melted-down horseshoe nails. The lady dentist might not’ve used those words, but she emphasized that old fillings are bad and should be replaced. And while we’re at it, one molar could sure use a crown. A crown from Camelot, if you catch my drift. Ain’t that a poke in the ribs?
So, they gave me a list of all the procedures they recommended to insure I have a healthy and bright smile, along with the cost of each and every procedure, excluding the extractions of my four wisdom teeth that would have to be performed by an oral surgeon. By the look of my estimate, my mouth was in horrible shape, but there was nothing wrong with my nose, and I smelled something fishy. I headed back to the Crow’s Nest. It was time to pop some more expired pain pills, open up another bottle of 90-proof mouthwash, and do some investigating that would make Geraldo Rivera proud.
I first contacted a reliable source, a dentist up in Tennessee. I related my visit to this certain dental clinic, informing my friend of the recommendations of her band of brothers, or sisters in this case. My contact (should I refer to her as “Deep Throat” or do Woodward and Bernstein own the copyright of that moniker?) informed me that those recommended procedures seemed a bit extreme, if not pointblank absurd. Replacing perfectly good fillings with new metal is ridiculous, she said, and pulling healthy teeth is downright medieval. She insisted that I get a second opinion, and I knew just the right man for the job.
Immediately after entering my regular dentist’s office, I felt at home. Familiar faces and voices with southern drawls ensured me that I came to the right place. After a new x-ray and a thorough exam by a seasoned dental professional, I received a report that there was no reason to pull my aching wisdom tooth or any other tooth. The pain was inflicted by some foreign body (kids, can you say “Tortilla chip”?), but the tooth was nice and healthy. My trusted dentist informed me that my mouth was plenty large enough to house all four teeth and an occasional foot that I often insert. He also inspected all fillings and reported they were in fine condition and not one needed to be traded in for a 2013 model.
Many folks trust the word of health care professionals, and that should be the case. If you can’t trust your doctor, who can you trust? But when certain health care professionals are paid by a huge conglomerate that cares more about revenue than its clients, there is a big problem here, folks. Why do we allow ourselves to be lured to a new dental clinic because of a coupon when better health care is right around the corner at your family doctor? It’s all about saving a buck or two. If I didn’t have the wisdom to seek a second opinion, I would’ve lost four healthy teeth and thousands of dollars all due to a $29 coupon.
The real horror of this story is what could’ve occurred had I opted for extractions of those four wisdom teeth. There is a plethora of people out there who rely on my infinite wisdom to advise them along their perilous journey down Life’s Little Highway, on their trek to tranquility. I warn them of roadside hazards and dead ends, of a Sasquatch lurking in the woods and a whirlpool of weirdness swirling just north of the Hays County line. Without my words of wisdom, to whom would these troubled souls turn for advice and direction? Doctor Phil? No, sir! It would be a crime to deprive humanity of the vast insight that seeps from my four wisdom teeth along with some nasty pus. For the sake of my fellow man, the Crow must go on, and if I remember to floss daily, I should be able to continue spreading my wisdoms to all you seekers of knowledge out there for years to come.
