The Fabulous Doc John

The teeth in the front of my mouth aren't mine, because when I crashed, my head hit the side window either before, or after my face hit the steering wheel. Whatever the sequence, the results were the head injury, and a broken jaw.

Because my jaw was broken in two places, some of my teeth were probably going to die. So they took me across the street to a dentist, and he did some root canals while I slept in his chair. Hey, I had just come out of a coma!  The root canals didn't work, though, so they ended up pulling those teeth, and the dentist built a tooth bridge, using two good teeth as anchors.

When my then-husband first saw me, after the accident, the doctors focused their discussion on my main problem; the head injury.  They may have said Traumatic Brain Injury, or a Closed Cranium Trauma, but I always refer to it as my head injury. Almost as an after-thought, they said maybe my jaw was broken too. Hubby saw me yawn, and my lower jaw did some wacky shucks and jives, and he realized that maybe was the wrong adverb. The jaw was definitely broken.  So it was wired shut to heal.

Funny high light:  I was out of the hospital, but returning each day for outpatient therapies, and had my first temporary bridge in place.  On our way into L.A. from the Antelope Valley, we stopped for donuts.  As I bit into a glazed twist, my bridge stayed in the donut as I pulled it away. And with a squeal I turned to my ex.  He pulled the car to the edge of the freeway, reached across and calmly replaced my teeth.  As luck would have it, the dentist was arriving for work just as we pulled into his parking lot.

Yesterday, I spent four hours in my dentist’s chair, as he prepared my mouth for its third such bridge.  My teeth were simply chipping away, and I could actually see metal.  It took Doctor John, and his helper (are they called nurses?) quite some time to get my old bridge out. As he hammered away, his nurse commented on my brain rattling.  His reply came quickly:  Her brain was rattled a long time ago!

Finishing up, after those 4 long hours, he said he owed me a bottle of wine for letting him torture me.  My mouth was still full of stuff so I held up two fingers.  We all laughed, and he left the room.  On my way out, the girls at the front desk stopped me. Doctor John had left me two bottles of wine.  I think he is the best dentist, on this continent, for sure, but I hope this bridge lasts forever.