Meeting Dr. Boneright

Yesterday, Marjorie and I were sitting on the deck in the warm afternoon sun enjoying an adult beverage when Woody the Woodpecker landed on one of our aspen trees at the edge of our woods. (Woody’s real name is Pileated Woodpecker but he took his more famous name when Hollywood producer Walter Lantz encountered the bird during his honeymoon. Lantz reported that the annoying woodpecker kept the couple awake at night boring holes in their honeymoon cabin. Lantz used Woody for one of his cartoons and the bird became famous and an immediate success along with Lantz’s other characters Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck) Since Marjorie knew that a Pileated is an energetic searcher for bugs on trees, we sat entranced as the big bird began his search for dinner at about eye level. And then he did a strange thing; he began to climb down the tree backwards, rump end first, sashaying back and forth, but steadily descending the large trunk with an occasional peck at the tree. And then he was gone, presumably off to another tree with more appealing bug prospects. The bird’s antics reminded me of myself and own search for the meaning of life, traveling life’s highway, going backwards most of the time. Such is an apt description of the process I used to find a new Roscommon-area dentist to help manage my dental health. Of course, I didn’t take the matter of finding a new dentist lightly, I used my time-honored technique of closing my eyes and pointing my finger at a list of dentists in the telephone book. The practitioner that I pointed to was Dr. Boneright, a new dentist to the Roscommon area according to the yellow pages. He was a young man judging by his photograph (one plus), he had an attractive assistant, (another plus), and he was accepting new patients for his growing business. What else did I need? I called his office and made an appointment. Some days later I found myself in Dr. Boneright’s waiting room for my first dental examination. When Dr. Boneright came into the room, I was surprised at how young he seemed. I wondered if he had finished high school. He said hello and showed off a mouthful of pearly whites as he explained that he would examine my teeth and then discuss what work I needed. Before I could inquire about prices and billing, he had slipped a large metal spoon in my mouth, prized open one side of my face, and began his examination, thus rendering any further discussion impossible. I sat there quietly as he began using a small round mirror, a stick, and a flashlight strapped to his forehead. Apparently, he didn’t find enough problems to justify his fee, so he reached for another tool, a metal probe with a cruel pointy tip that he began pushing into my gums to my despair. This depravity seemed to stimulate him – I could hear what seemed to be a satisfied grunt as he pushed the probe around one tooth after another, inflicting one new sharp pain after another as he forced the probe into my gums when it didn’t go in far enough to satisfy him. “There she is,” he said.Suddenly he took the stick, the spoon, and the mirror from my mouth and leaned close to me as if we were about to plan a major heist. “I knew there was a cavity in there someplace,” he said. The next 20 minutes were filled with more fingers in my mouth and several x-rays taken only after everyone except me ran from the room. After that, I was left alone in the dental chair surrounded by various objects designed for inflicting pain. It wasn’t a positive experience. The doctor didn’t help my composure when he returned and told me that my cavity seemed really deep but he thought he could save the tooth without a root canal. I told him that I hoped he was right since I guessed the difference was several hundred dollars. He said he could do the job right away and he began loading my mouth with tools for his next sadistic adventure. Almost before I knew what was happening, he plunged a foot- long needle into my sore mouth and loaded me up with Novocain, then left the room again. I sat there quietly wondering what could possibly be worse than the cruel probe and the long needle. I soon discovered what it was. I awoke from my Novocain-induced daze when he and his assistant came back into the room. She proceeded to stretch open my mouth while he loaded me up with more tools, including a nasty-looking drill. It sounded like a chain saw when he started drilling but it seemed to operate more like an air hammer. I held on to the chair with clenched fists and curled toes. I could tell the dentist was making progress when smoke and flame started wafting from my open mouth. A foul smell filled the room and I suddenly realized it was coming from my mouth. Dr. Boneright abruptly stopped drilling and took his large fist out of my mouth that was stretched about four times its normal size. “How ya doing?” he asked. His question was accompanied by a diabolical smile that split his face. I was beginning to dislike the man. “Ids no tooo bad,” I said with a frozen tongue and a mouth full of tools. The doctor seemed to take that as encouragement because he leaned forward, reinserted the drill and began creating the Grand Canyon in my tooth. While he was engaged, his dental assistant continued stretching my mouth and spraying cold water, presumably to keep the flames down. At that point, the pain began. I found myself exercising my sphincter in a search for relief. I decided to speak up. “Dere iss sum pane wen du puss da drill sew hart,” I murmured. The doctor had suddenly become hard-of- hearing; he continued the drilling while I concentrated on my sphincter squeezing. My efforts in pain relief helped; either that, or the second level of Novocain kicked in because my memory of the remainder of the drilling is foggy. I only know that as soon as he finished drilling, I checked the dental chair beneath me to find that it was still clean, thus preserving a small measure of my dignity. The remainder of the procedure, filling the Grand Canyon with some mysterious concoction, proceeded without a hitch with the assistant doing much of the work. She seemed sympathetic and I liked her despite her prior excess in mouth stretching. Since my Roscommon dental visit occurred two weeks ago, I am pleased to report that my mouth has returned to its normal size and I can now sleep most nights without dreaming about an air hammer in my mouth. Although I haven’t received the final bill from Dr. Boneright, I think he has restored my dental health so I’m thankful for that. Oh, and by the way, if you happen to see a Pileated Woodpecker, for some while I suggest that you avoid visiting any professional who earns a living by inspecting body cavities. On the other hand, if there is someone you hate, I can provide you Dr. Boneright’s office address as a referral. Grandpa Bill