Here is a first installment from my Baby Boomer Blues Memoire Series I'm working on.

Jack-a-lantern Smile by Jennifer O’Neill Pickering

         

          The receptionist at the front desk assured me I had 100% dental coverage for all the procedures the oral surgeon, I’d never met, would perform that day. This information improved my caffeine deprived headache--- a little. I sat down, flipped through a People magazine wondering what the rich and famous were up to (besides their perfect sets of teeth).  The weeks feature story was a photo essay on the progress of Princess Kate’s “baby bump.” Just look at her set of pearly whites!  

          A twenty something male technician, named Jimmy, called my name, and led me to the surgery room, where he explained the step-by-step procedures they’d be performing. After the third or fourth step Jimmy’s lips continued to move without me hearing any sounds. “We need to take an X-ray first,” he said gleefully.

           The X-ray was a 3-D digital machine that circles your head and doesn’t involve sticking card board in your mouth. “Remember to lower your shoulders,” Jimmy said, and disappeared behind the radiation barrier. The machine spun around my head 360 degrees grazing my left shoulder.
          “Good job,” he praised.  

          I asked to use the restroom and he led me down the hall. “Can you find your way back to the surgery room?” he asked hopefully? Then added,” It is three doors down on the left.” I guess my carefully applied make-up, lipstick, and mascara didn’t disguise the fact I could still be his grandmother and therefore a risk for getting lost in small enclosed spaces.

          On the wall in the bathroom was a print of The Three Stooges depicting Moe and Larry’s attempt to extract Curly’s tooth with a pair of pliers. I was grateful I’d opted for general anesthesia because the tools on the dental tray in the surgery room had a scary resemblance to the pliers.
          With Jimmy’s excellent instructions, I was able to find way back to the right room. We settled down to the business of taking my blood pressure which spiked due to doctor/dentist office visit high blood pressure syndrome (DDOVHBS). I asked him for another reading and it dropped 15 points. He then proceeded to hook me up to the machines a la Mrs. Frankenstein. The machines started bleeping out my vitals.  He offered me a blanket and I told him,” I sometimes choke when my head is too far back.” He brought me a pillow as well.

          Sitting in the operating chair my mind immediately went to a dark place recalling the story I’d read about a dentist that used his anesthetized patients for cuddle toys. Age apparently had not been a deterrent in his case. My delusional thoughts were interrupted by Jimmy asking, with a practiced delicacy, my height and weight. For once I didn’t need to fib about the latter. Weight Watchers was paying off. This is something you wouldn’t want to fib on anyway because it determines how much anesthesia you get. 

          After a half hour the oral surgeon bounded into the surgery room looking no older than a high school student. He was lean, tall as a basketball player, and still sported a hint of youthful acne. I hoped I wasn’t one of his “practice patients.”

          “It looks like we are removing two non restorable teeth today,” he said, rubbing his hands together with the eagerness of preparing to slice into a juicy steak.

          I took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

           “I’ll just spray your arm to numb the skin and insert the needle. Okay. The tube is in. Now let’s get these bad puppies out,” he said blinding me with his snowflake smile.

                    I woke to Jimmy, floating in a drug induced haze, in front of me. He pressed a bag to my hands that contained my gold crown and post op instructions inside.

           “Are you ready for the recovery room?”
          I babbled a reply about feeling really nice and could I just stay like this forever?  After a time he guided me shuffling toward the room filled with the fainting couches. My daughter sat on one with the promised cup of steaming coffee.  Jimmy eyed the coffee.
           “You probably shouldn’t eat or drink anything until you get home and the anesthesia wears off,” Jimmy said helpfully.

           “We will call you tonight to see how you are doing,” He said cheerfully as he led us to the exit door.

           “How did it go, Mom?” my daughter asked.

          “Alright once I get use to the idea that I’ve joined the ranks of those with jack-o-lantern smiles.”

          I got home and slowly sipped my lukewarm coffee my headache subsiding with an infusion of caffeine. I adjusted the gauze over the holes where my teeth had once been--loyal friends for 40 something years. Balancing a frozen bag of peas to my swollen jaw while keeping my head elevated on a mountain of pillows, I flipped through the post-op brochure booklet. “Sometimes the affected area can stay numb for several months…during the healing process sharp bone fragments may appear through the tissue… tightness of the muscles (trismus), may cause difficulty opening the mouth.”

          Perhaps a little lighter reading would speed my recovery and substituted Broken Harbor, a murder mystery by Tana French. 

My hope is to make a little laughter in the world. We have plenty of tears to go around already. This is the first installment of many if the muse is conciliatory.