back-porch dentistry

[franksolich]

Some years ago, when I was young and green in judgement, just graduated from college, I moved to Allentown, Pennsylvania, so as to be closer to aunts and uncles and cousins.

I myself had been born and raised in Nebraska; the parents and older siblings had been born and raised in Pennsylvania and New York, before moving to Nebraska, a trek for which their families never forgave them.  The parents and older siblings took to Nebraska like ducks to water, but I myself had always dreamed of, fantasized about, living among hordes of wonderful caring loving relatives.

And so when I could, after most of my own family had departed this time and place, now laying among the flowers and trees and fauna of the Sandhills of Nebraska, I took off for points east.

Relatives aren't all they're cracked up to be, but that is neither here nor there.

temporarily interrupted and locked because I just ran out of cigarettes, and have to run to town to get some more; back in a bit

[franksolich]

Some time before leaving Lincoln and moving, I had my usual check-up with a dentist, who as usual had noticed nothing wrong--I had been born with excellent teeth--but thought perhaps it was time for the four wisdom teeth to come out, as they seemed to be shifting, moving so as to interfere with the neighboring teeth.

"A quick and easy job," he told me, showing me the x-rays.  "See how the roots grow straight down, rather than curving?  These should pop out like nothing."

And then he quoted me a price of $160.

I commented I would think about it; I was more interested in my impending move, and as it did not seem anything serious, it could wait.  And besides, $160 would pay for a great deal of mileage eastward.

And so I moved to Allentown.  My college degree, a B.A. in the history of the British Empire and Commonwealth, had not given me any marketable skill in the working world (something I was long ago aware of anyway), but upon hours of arriving in that city, I was hired by a wholesale hardware distributor based upon the fulsome recommendation of my former employer, a wholesale hardware distributor in Nebraska.

I then obtained a place to live, about ten blocks west of the "downtown," the commercial sector, of Allentown.  It was the third floor of an antique rowhouse in a congested neighborhood.  The neighborhood boasted a variety of people, but also a substantial plurality of those of Greek extraction, many of whom did not speak English.

In fact, the landlord was such a Greek, using his 14-year-old son as a translator when we made the deal.  I offered to pay the rent in drachmae instead of dollars, but the joke fell flat with him.  Other than not having a sense of humor, the landlord was an okay guy.

Once settled and established in a new place and a new job, I sought the services of a dentist.  He found nothing wrong with the teeth, as usual, but like the dentist in Lincoln, suggested that I have the four wisdom teeth pulled.

"A quick and easy job," he told me, showing me the x-rays.  "See how the roots grow straight down, rather than curving?  These should pop out like nothing."

And then he quoted me a price of $160.

I commented I would think about it.

I fretted about it that evening, reluctant to spend so much money on something ostensibly so "easy."  While sitting on the roof, I voiced my concerns to the landlord's son, who was a frequent visitor, as I presented a phenomenon rarely, if ever, seen before, that of a deaf person who "seemed" to be able to hear.

The landlord's son, in a kinder and gentler age, would have been known as a "smart alec," but other than that, he was an okay kid.

He suggested he knew someone who could do the job for cheap; not a dentist, but a guy who knew dentistry.  A native of Greece, he had started off in dental school in that country, but part of the way through, decided to come to America instead, where he was now a plumber.

temporarily interrupted and locked because the cats Abbie, Snow, Harold, Ellie, Gustav, William, and Decker appear to have cornered a coyote atop the William Rivers Pitt, and I have to go out to rescue the coyote

[franksolich]

The next evening, the landlord's son took me to meet the plumber at home.

The plumber was a short, stout, muscular guy with a grimace suggesting a lack of fiber in the diet.  As with my landlord, he also did not know English, and so the landlord's son did the translating for us.  The plumber's wife was a short, squat dark woman with sparse facial hair and a warm, gracious smile.

The plumber wanted to have nothing to do with it, or me.  The conversation was in Greek, but I did catch that he was suspicious I might be some sort of "undercover" for one of the various state agencies, seeking to get him into trouble.

The landlord's son and the plumber paced round and round the couch as they argued; the plumber did not know me, and wanted me to go away.  It took quite some time--probably half an hour, forty-five minutes, before the plumber began to mellow.

The landlord's son pointed out that his parents liked me, considering me honest and reliable and a gentleman, a decent and civilized Republican awash in a neighborhood of greedy conniving cheating Democrats.

As the plumber softened, he reminded me he was no dentist, and there could be problems.

I pointed out that two dentists had shown me the x-rays, and that there would be no problems; the teeth should just pop out.

The plumber reminded me he did not use anesthetics.

I pointed out that I could endure a lot of pain if it saved me some bucks.

The plumber and his wife escorted the landlord's son and me to the "office," the back porch, where there was an old barber chair bolted to the wooden floor.  The open shelves were filled with empty glass jars, covered over with transparent plastic that had gotten coated with sticky dust.  On a crooked table were instruments known to me to be actual dental instruments, although antique and rusted.

I noticed there were straps on the arms of the chair and near where one places the feet; I inquired as to their purpose.

"It hurts, you know," I was told.

I said no restraints, and as everything else looked okay to me, it was a deal.

He quoted me the price of twenty-five dollars, paid in advance, the next evening.

To which I said yeah, sure, okay.

temporarily interrupted and locked because a horse is grazing in the front yard, and I have to go chase it back across the road, into the meadow where it belongs; sorry for the inconvenience

[franksolich]

That night, while in bed, I tossed and turned, wondering if perhaps I might be more foolish than practical, undertaking this enterprise; after all, this plumber was not a real dentist.

Having grown up in a medical family, I was not unfamiliar with the history of medicine and surgery, and having "tested" myself many times before, I was not unfamiliar with the limits to which I could go, and remain a decent and civilized person.

As mentioned before, I already knew about the instruments the plumber had, from illustrated books of the history of dentistry during the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries.

(This happened years before I ventured into the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants with free medical care for all; if I had known then, what I knew later, this particular point would not have concerned me at all.)

Bah, humbug, I thought; I was saving $135, and that wasn't chump change.

The next evening, about suppertime, I presented myself to the plumber and his wife.

She smiled at me; he seemed genuinely shocked that I had shown up.

temporarily interrupted and locked because the guy who mows the grass here just showed up, and needs instructions on what's to be mowed, and what's not to be touched; why he mows the grass here in the darkness of night is another story altogether

[franksolich]

I handed the plumber twenty-five dollars, and resigned to that I was really there, he escorted me to the back porch.  He had just gotten home from work, and had not a chance to clean himself after spending the day plumbing.

He flexed his arms, showing me in Greek that he was very strong, and so it was best that I did exactly what he told me to do.

But I already knew that; I was no weakling myself, but I had been impressed by his muscularity.  This was a guy one didn't fool around with.

Then he slapped both sides of my face.  I have no idea why; perhaps to check "reaction" or something.

I opened my mouth wide, as instructed, and he drove in the pincers, to the upper left wisdom tooth.  It came out right away, clinking into the chipped enamelware basin; in fact, it came out so fast I was startled.

Then the plumber took a cotton ball dipped in bichloride of mercury, and jammed it into the now-vacant space.

I protested; bichloride of mercury was poison.

"Kills germs too," the plumber reminded me, in Greek.

Ignoring my protests, the plumber then drove in the pincers, to the lower left wisdom tooth.  It too came out right away, after which more bichloride of mercury.

temporarily interrupted and locked because an income-tax customer just dropped in, to pay his bill and chitchat

[franksolich]

Then the plumber began working on the upper right wisdom tooth.

Try as he could, it would not come out.

He pushed my head so far back it flung against the back of the chair as I sort of watched the plumber's wife walk around the back porch, swatting flies that had been attracted by the blood.

He pulled.....

.....and pulled.....

.....and pulled.....

.....and pulled.

By this time, he was kneeling on my lap, crushing my thighs.  It was a hot summer evening, and both he and I were sweating profusely, my cologne wedding with his plumbing odors.

The plumber got off my lap and stood there, looking at me with vexation.  I was sort of strangling, from the blood and sweat running down inside my throat, and coughed and sputtered, "Okay, okay, that's it, no more, forget about it."

The plumber got on my lap again, and pulled.....

.....and pulled.....

.....and pulled.

I was not aware of human veinous anatomy at the time, but it seemed to me that there must be some sort of major nerve, running from the big toe of one foot up through the body to the top of the skull.  It felt as if the plumber was trying to pull a 6'3" rope out from inside of me, rather than just a tooth.

The plumber continued pulling.

.....and pulling.....

.....and pulling.

This time, it felt as if he were trying to yank out my right eyeball, from the inside.

Just as vomit was scrambling up the windpipe, the tooth spurted out.  The plumber fell backward on my lap, and I grabbed his waist, to keep him from falling onto the floor.

I was dragged, sore, worn out.  I do not remember extraction of the fourth tooth, the lower right wisdom tooth, other than that it seemed to pop out as easily and quickly as the first two had.

The plumber, profusely perspiring, jammed more cotton and bichloride of mercury into my mouth, and indicated he was done now, but I should sit there and "rest."

The plumber's wife brought me a glass of some sort of Greek liqeuer, which I downed instantly, and later learned it was fermented poppyseeds.  Some minutes passed, minutes which I do not remember at all, other than that the plumber's wife was carefully washing my face and rubbing my head as I sat there.

When I was mobile and sensate, the plumber showed me the four teeth; they had been clean extractions, nothing left behind, and so there should be no problems.  Thanking him and his wife, I walked back home.

For the next few days, the sides of my face looked as if I had eggs on the inside of the cheeks, but as I had always tended to heal quickly, there were no problems after that.

Although every time I encountered the plumber while walking around the neighborhood, he stopped to stare at me as if I were Bozo from Outer Space.

Some years later, when I returned to Nebraska, I went to my former dentist for the usual standard customary no-problems dental check-up.  He had my old records, of course, and noticed the four wisdom teeth were all gone.

He looked inside, and then commented, "Good job; you must've had a really good dentist."

[FGL]

LOLOL.

very very good story. Probably would have more visitors if it weren't so dang late/early

[Flame]

Another great chapter in the "Life of Frankl"!

[Lord Undies]

I always enjoy these visits to Frankland.  There's no place quite like it!

(BTW, I'm lucky.  I had my wisdom teeth removed at age 12 - while I was still under warranty.)

[FGL]

Frank should put all of his stories into a PDF file so that the world can enjoy them for generations to come =o)

[franksolich]

Frank should put all of his stories into a PDF file so that the world can enjoy them for generations to come =o)

Probably not; they're not that good.

And there's the sheer volume of them; I'm sure the stories of the William Rivers Pitt alone would consume considerable gigabyteage.

(I don't think you were around when all of the William Rivers Pitt stories showed up here; it was like during the first eight or nine months of conservativecave.)

[FGL]

Probably not; they're not that good.

And there's the sheer volume of them; I'm sure the stories of the William Rivers Pitt alone would consume considerable gigabyteage.

(I don't think you were around when all of the William Rivers Pitt stories showed up here; it was like during the first eight or nine months of conservativecave.)

I wasn't around then. But it makes sense to have named him after a large pile of pig poop

[Toastedturningtidelegs]

I always like Franks stories about visiting the house of a poor man!

[Flame]

I bet a publisher would love to get ahold of his stories!