a political epiphany out of a dental appointment

dentists are not my favorite people.

(i am excluding my dear friend, chum, from this, of course. he is a favorite way before he started taking fancy adoration on poking someone else’s teeth.)

it would then be not surprising for most people to learn (and embarassing, i should say) that i would put off appointments with them as much as possible. for no justfiable reasons whatsoever, i am more sold to the fact of leaning over for a rectal inspection than i do with dental consultation.

my sister, jesse, knows this of course and dragged me to the dental clinic to arrange an appointment for me. that was last friday. and the appointment was set last tuesday afternoon.

my discomfort in dealing with dentist has no valid reasons and thus is utterly useless to be used as an argument of why i do not really fancy making the appointment. and i have two molars the dentists insist must be taken out but are still sticking out from my gum after persistent reminders. they are the culprit on why i rarely stick to the same dentist like i do with my hairdresser: i have issues parting with my molar teeth (i do have issues parting with my hair, too, but a hairdresser has so much stuff to do with my hair being long than it being short or gone (gasps!) so i am very much assured egay would never raise up that idea).

and so the point came when i have to stretch my body to that dreaded dental chair. it would be very ridiculous to even think of that scene similar to those horrible torture chamber in quentin tarantino’s “hostel”. for one, my dentist’s clinic is located at the mall. for the other, the light was fucking everywhere. but you have to remember and i have the need to stress that i do have a kind of discomfort with dentists; unjustifiable, true, but discomfort nevertheless. she poked and poked and did stuff with my teeth, with her little toys making louder and louder sounds as the minutes ticked by.

“we need to pull out this and this” she said after handing me the mirror and pointing to the molars.

i wasn’t surprised. any dentist who would missed the necessity to take out the two molars must have cheated in her dental board exam to get herself certified.

“o-okay.” i replied. what the hell can i do? i have waited for the molars to drop dead and popped out of my gums for ages. that did not happen. i have waited for them to deteriorate what is left with the crown and pull itself up from the root for a new crown. that did not happen, either. and we do not have tooth fairies in third world country.

“but we will do it after two weeks. we need to do fillings for the other two molars.”

jesus, just get on with it. i was tempted to say. but my discomfort was not her fault; she was pretty less aggressive than the rest of the dentist i have been with. i gave her a short “ok” and stared at the ceiling indifferently. deep inside, i was chicken shit scared she might screw up and produce a guinea pig experiment out of me.

i did fancy she cut my tongue. i could taste blood, seriously. but after close examination of it, i found my tongue still intact and visually complete.

she waved me off with a reminder to see her in two weeks. as i went out of the dental clinic, an epiphany overtook me. perhaps, my two molars have some sort of power to stay in their seats, regardless of how many specialists firmly wants their removal. they were made up to not waver and perhaps, the fact of them being partly made of enamel, gave them incapability to hear any expert advise from anybody, and worse, even the obvious need of the body for their separation. they, in turn, has poision the body by making it indifferent to anything that concerns them, dismissing the case of the two defunct molar teeth as a sorry fact rather than an issue to be addressed. these molar teeth will stay there in their seats in whatever power is left of them to grind and bite.

ahhhh,
reminds me so much of our president.

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