Visited my passionate dentist Dr. Wally today at 4:30pm. He's been excited to remove my wisdom teeth. Keep in mind I've had these teeth for my entire life. There part of my body. They came in straight. And they've served me quite fine over the years. But Dr. Wally says I don't need 32 teeth. He says his were removed years ago. His assistant, Alma, had hers removed two months ago. I began to wonder as he pulled the sterile packaging off what looked like a Home Depot shopping cart full of tools. Is he just jealous? Is this a conspiracy? Why is he so damn excited to rip these teeth out of my mouth? I've probably had 5 or 6 dentists in my life. None have ever been so anxious to remove body parts before? He detected my hesitation. Or should I say nervousness? Or, simply paranoia. And with his hands and toolkit in my mouth I uttered in my best imitation of my voice sans tongue and lips “Be Careful,” he pulled back and asked, “You don't trust me Allan?” Trust. Is this guy nuts. It's not a question of trust. But things can — and do happen. “Are you sure you can't find a little decay or some plaque to deal with?” Nope. He went for the molars — the wisdom. The left side. Two gone. And he's got his eye on the right side. I think I'm going undercover.
I just hope I'm still somewhat wise tomorrow.
