Sometimes we hang onto things too long. As the years have gone on, I have stopped the accumulation of clutter of my younger days and started the slow de-clutter than accompanies healthy maturity. Good, right? What I didn't realize is that this applies to all our body clutter, too. Slowly, we are forced to abdicate our strength, our quickness of memory, and finally our body parts. Body parts? Really? Well, some of them. Of course, we mourn our strength, but keep our flaccid muscles and flabby arms. We mourn our eyesight, but keep our dim little eyeballs behind thicker and thicker glasses. But these are all just minor compared to our final sacrifice - our teeth.
Yep-teeth. Chompers. Permanent Teeth. I gave up my first molar yesterday - voluntarily. Believe me, I had tried not to. I wanted to keep this tooth like I hoard my babies' first teeth. But nothing worked. I babied this tooth, massaged it, flossed it, filled it and finally, in an act of desperation, had it capped. To no avail. It was a bad, bad tooth. With a hairline fracture somewhere and finally infected. No question, it had to go. So I made the call to the surgeon, got pissed because I had to suffer for a month- YES, a MONTH! - before I could get this infected thing out of me. And then, with painkiller and antibiotics in hand, I waited. And waited. And waited.
When yesterday came, I was grateful for the pre-op Valium because childhood memories of dental surgery were not kind ones. Even though it took only a couple of well-placed yanks to get it out, I ended up weeping through the whole procedure. I cried for the additional pain I had to endure after years of torment, but I also cried that it was gone even after all my efforts. Sort of like life- sometimes no matter what you do to save something, it's best to rip it out of your life and move on without the pain and baggage that goes with it.
Today, I'm in a lot less pain overall. But I still miss my tooth.
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