Eye Teeth

Dux makes baby blue dental mirrors. I know because I had one centimeters from my face today. Root canal this morning with another in January. All I could see was the Dux dental mirror and eyes.

Two of the eyes belonged to my dentist, thin, late 30s, looks like Southern Cal football coach, Pete Carroll. He actually isn't my dentist. He's the guy my dentist sends me to for root canals. Teeth pulling are done by another guy. At times, I feel my dentist is more broker than medical practitioner.

As a kid back in Chicago, our family dentist was Dr. Brink. Dr. Brink was bald and didn't wear a surgical mask. Though he never said as much, I always felt he upheld an unwritten code of dentistry. For example, Dr. Brink didn't give novocaine lightly. You had to earn it. Certainly there were no shots for cavities. ('You ate those candy bars and didn't brush. Here's why you should.') And he did his own extractions and root canals. He knew our schools and what grade we were in. He asked about our families. Dr. Brink was a dentist's dentist.

Nowadays procedures are much less painful. But my teeth are talked about as if separate from me. And the dentist drilling, filling, sealing around my mouth, though efficient and clean, may as well be installing a fuel pump in a Honda Civic.

So I watch the eyes watching my teeth. The other eyes belong to female assistants. One wears a blue, tropical-themed smock. Very festive. It made me feel as if I were aboard a dental cruise ship. Another young assistant hovers behind Festive Smock, watching wide-eyed. She's learning on the job.

My point?