When I was a kid I had an accident that involved my mouth, my teeth and a snapping turtle.
You do know what a snapping turtle is, don't you? Otherwise known as an Alligator Snapping Turtle, they have beaks on them that are capable of snapping little boys' fingers in half.
Anyway, I was fishing at the lake with my brothers when one of them announced that an afore-described turtle was sitting near the base of the concrete causeway we were sitting atop. I think I was 10 or 11 at the time and my fascination with anything dangerous was a pretty potent one. I took this announcement as truth and decided to go investigate.
I left my roost at the top of the causeway and proceeded down to where the concrete slab met the waters edge. As you probably know, when lake or river water runs over anything for some time, moss forms and makes for a pretty slippery surface. The particular concrete slab in question was angled at about 45 degrees, I'd say.
Upon reaching the base of the causeway I was disappointed to find that my brother had in fact been lying and that there was no snapping turtle to be found. I had pulled off my shoes and had hiked my pant legs to up around my knees for nothing and I grew quite pissed about all of it. So, I balled my fists and began walking back up the slippery slope with the intention of pommelling a sibling or two upon my return.
About half way through my walk back up the slab, I lost my footing and came crashing down to earth. The first part of my body to hit the mossy concrete was my chin.
A few things happened here that are worth noting:
1. I sheared 6 of my molars. 3 in half, 3 only partially.
2. I bit off 1/3 of the tip of my tongue. I imagine the piece I spit out made for a good meal for one of the fish we were trying to catch. Irony, anyone?
3. A massive gash was created just under my chin, such that a clear view of my jawbone was immediately available for anyone who could get me to look up.
4. Tucked into the newly created laceration were pockets of gravel and moss that were not going to just come out with some vigorous head shaking. 5. Of the teeth that were cracked or broken, one was a baby tooth that had no permanent tooth underneath it. This tooth would require extraction later in life.
The moment I stood up and started spitting out tongue and tooth fragments, my brothers were on their feet. The weren't running, they weren't calling for help and they certainly weren't rushing down to assist me.
They just stood there. Eyes like saucers. Jaws dropped (pun intended).
Eventually my brother Jared flagged down a passing car and enlisted the help of a total stranger. I was escorted to a hospital where I promptly received 29 stitches and later, over $2,000 worth of dental work (I know that figure because it was reminded to me by my father over the next few years).
I tell you this story people because today I have a dentist appointment. In fact, I have this appointment in 1 hour. In fact, it's been over 2 years since I've seen a dentist because of the sheer complication involved in 'just getting a cleaning'.
It's always a huge fucking discussion about the state of my enamel's affairs and how long each flawed tooth is going to last before bridgework or implant surgery will have to be considered. It's never fun and I NEVER GET THE FUCKING BALLOONS OR FAKE RINGS THAT I DID WHEN I WAS A KID.
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