The Doctors Appointment

Chapter 1
Or.............What every man fears!!!!!

It was years ago when it happened, but one day it did. What every man fears and nothing brings more fear to man than his trip to the Dr.'s Office. It humbles him, makes him bitch bitterly, is a downright uncomfortable thing, and is a thorough waste of his time. REAL men don't go to doctors, or at least I was taught that. They tough it out, change the subject, and scratch in their shorts while they THINK about going! The following is just one of the many times I was forced the indignity of one of these visits by the opposite sex.

It all started one day when I was having a stomach ache. I complained like all men do and stayed home from work. My ex wife said, "You had better see a doctor: It might be cancer, a brain tumor, colon cancer, tape worms or a host of fatal diseases." Well, after hearing all that, I of course thought, "It might be an ulcer too now that I have to worry about dying over the next 5 minutes." So I got on the phone and set up a Dr.'s appointment. They told me, "Well, we can't get you in for two years from Friday" (You know how Dr.'s offices are) "And we'll need your first born as collateral until we can check your insurance." So after complaining about the exorbitant costs quite a bit I reluctantly agreed and went back to my day’s routine.

The following morning I went to work around all of the rest of the REAL men that don't ever need Dr.'s and told them my dilemma. I soon had learned you could add 42 more diseases to the list and a host of other deadly toxins that were eating away at my flesh. But most agreed it was probably an ulcer. I left that day agreeing with them. Later a friend of mine dropped by to inform me that yeah he had ulcers too. He explained that it was much better to have the ulcer and die with your stomach blown out than to suffer the indignity of the tests to tell you that you have an ulcer. I asked, "What do u mean?" he then responded with the words I had hoped I'd never hear "Upper and lower GI" Now if you've never had this procedure done it involves this. They probe you everywhere, yes, even there, EVERYWHERE. I had hoped to die with my sphincter intact and not man-handled. Most of my life had been dedicated to keeping things out of that area of my anatomy and up to this point I had done a perfect job. Even upon entering the army they just kind of looked at it, which sent it into immediate implosion. Trust me-any doctor desiring more would have had his finger pinched off. Now I must go suffer the indignity of a "Barium Enema". BARIUM ENEMA! The name strikes fear, doesn't it. It’s a procedure where by they pump pink liquid in your arse. Now who thought that up? Think about it. It's not bad enough you have to get an enema but they had to make it a pink color. I'll wager a woman thought that up.

It was weeks I had before my appointment and no one has actually said I was going to receive this yet but my fears were lodged in my brain and for weeks I dreaded hearing the doctor prescribe that for me.

Finally the day arrived and I went with my ex wife to the clinic. They made me fill out form after form. They made me sit quietly waiting for two hours just to tell me, (Laughing is heard from the nurses in the background) "You need a barium enema". After a few hours of torture my name was called out and I followed a nurse with the biggest hands I've ever seen (I hope she doesn't help) into the little rooms that are always cold and where you have u wait another hour before anyone appears. I call these the pre pre-screening rooms. After the obligatory hour wait had passed a doctor entered the room. He smiled and asked me a battery of questions. Now I had been waiting for him to ask me if I have ever had a barium enema before but so far he hadn't. I thought I was safe but then oh yes then came the have you ever questions. The first one from his mouth was "When was the last time you had a bowel movement?" And me in my infinite wisdom and one tracked mind thinking only of barium enemas responded" Dr. I’ve never had one." My ex-wife looked at the nurse! The nurse looked at the Dr! The Dr looked at my ex-wife and then they all three looked at me! I still didn't understand what was going on until the Doc laughed and said, "Well, no wonder your tummy hurts" and everyone had a great laugh at my expense and to top it off at the end of the discussion the doctor told me “By the way, YOU will need an upper and lower GI. Doctors Wit, I never understood them!

Chapter 2 Surgery

The first time I had surgery, was the most eye opening experience I've ever had. And that's saying a lot coming from me; I've been all over. After having endured the first assault to my internal organs in "The Doctors Appointment" do you think it could get any worse? Well, to be honest, it can.

I had, had a car wreck. I was minding my own business, sitting at an intersection awaiting a traffic light to turn green. When, what should happen? You guessed it, someone that had guzzled 4 quarts of gin plowed into my car at full speed. (The speed limit was 45 there). I had time to notice him barreling down on me and reply "Oh Shit!" I got out of my car and looked over the other guy. He was messed up bad. In all my 45 years, I have never seen a man with so many pink elephants encircling his head. I asked him "Are you alright?" I cannot say what I said after that without in all good conscious giving this story an x rating. Suffice it to say he had a new repertoire of words to mull over in his drunken stupor.

I had to go to the hospital; and once there they ran a battery of tests at me and found that I had 3 compacted disks in my neck and would need surgery soon. I asked about the lower GI again and the doctor assured me I wouldn't need one of those. So I entered the hospital with my ass feeling safe and secure and slightly disappointed. (Just Kidding)!!! They gave me anesthetics and I counted to ten backwards and I remember saying 9. After that, time slowed and I entered the surgery dimension. I call it this because you don't experience time like you do sleeping. It's as if time as ceased to function. This is probably the stage where the doctors and nurses giggle about the size of your anatomy.

Anyways after 5 hours of this I came to, feeling very relaxed. I was in a daze. On both sides of me there was a guy that had surgery too. My hearing wasn't focused then but after a few minutes of cobweb clearing I realized they were complaining about pain and were quite loud about it. I was not in the best of moods so I politely turned to each and said, "Shut the fuck up! I'm trying to sleep" They grunted something but quieted down not long after that. A few minutes later I was starting to hurt. So there we were 3 of us, all belly aching about our pain and me, the loudest. The doctors came in inspecting for abuse by the nursing staff and told us we couldn't have any more pain medicine for two hours. The next two hours I vaguely remember 3 grown men crying lots.

They finally gave me a shot and I passed out. When I came too I was in my on room and the cobwebs had cleared enough, I could think semi clearly. My head hurt really badly and so I reached up to feel it and on both sides of my temples two volcanoes had erupted. I felt them and they were large and had deep holes in them. Now I was supposed to have neck surgery. My first thought was "Oh My God"! They operated on the wrong parts. I screamed and buzzed nurses. Soon they arrived and explained to me that those holes were from thumbscrews to hold my head still during surgery. No one ever told me this. Is this common practice to tell a patient this, AFTER the surgery? She assured me that it wasn't and it was in the fine print requiring the 20x magnifying glass to read. After that they all left again. It was then I realized TRUE HORROR!

I needed to pee. So I got up to go to the bathroom and a metal stand with a bottle of yellow liquid began following me. I moved to the right, it moved to the right. I walked into the bathroom. It followed. Then I saw the tube. I traced it down and it went under my gown. I lifted my gown and saw the most barbaric sight known to modern medicine, No not my Hairy legs :) a catheter! I was frightened. The tube was quite large and I certainly don't like things being pushed up my anatomy there. I freaked. I tried to console my anatomy. Whatever happened I no longer wanted that cute nurse to visit me. The results could have been disastrous.

I finally went back and lay down. I learned to live with the bottle following me around. I even started to talk to it saying "Home James!" And then the worse thing happened. A seedy looking male nurse came in, that had the most hair on his arms I'd ever seen. He said he was here to remove my catheter. Hmmm, I pondered. Why did they send a steroid infused man in here to remove this tube? I found out soon enough. He said lie down and relax, but with a guy grabbing there, it's impossible to relax. (He was my first :)) Anyway, he held onto "Tiny Moe" as I affectionately called him in one hand and the tube in the other. He said "on 3".......1....2.....YANKKKKKKKKKKKKKkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk. It Did Not Budge. However I did, for the time being my pelvis would have followed him anywhere until he stopped. Then I would have beaten him endlessly.

After I regained my composure, he gave it another yank and this time the entire 6-foot (well that's what it felt like) of tube popped out. I was glad to have my organs back again and all in functioning condition. I thanked him and after a few hours, exited the building. I was sore there but somewhat wiser for the wear. You learn a lot in hospitals.

Chapter 3 Tiny Moe troubles

After my first two episodes at the Doctors Office, you would think that I have learned my lesson. Obviously I am a stubborn man. This will be my last story in this series. If you have any humbling experiences there, please feel free to write about them. Or you can write me if you prefer. I like to feel I'm not alone in this department! :)

I went to work one day, and was running a bit late. When I arrived, I clocked in and then rushed to the bathroom to do the mans thing. That is to say I had to pee. While standing there writing my name on the grid in the Urinal that keeps the cigarette butts from going down the drain, the guy next to me looked my way. Those are always awkward moments from a guy’s point of view as we always suffer from size envy in some form or another. If it’s not our Penis size, we have to have the biggest trucks or else the fastest computer or something similar like that. I looked up at him and if you’re both peeing its best to discuss football or something like that unless you’re into same-sex marriages, which I'm not. So I remarked "The waters cold today." (Implying the age-old male tale that it was dragging 20 inches or so to the bottom.) The guy laughed and said "Yeah and its deep too."

After that I zipped up "Tiny Moe" as he's affectionately called by me and exited the bathroom.

Upon leaving the bathroom my boss approached me with the dreaded Quote "You have a piss test today. Go to the clinic." Ouch! I get drug screened a lot since I work on large aircraft and it appears the FAA frowns on people that suffer from Flashbacks, or who smoke pot occasionally. I don't do drugs anymore so the only thing I generally worry about is the apparent laughs I get from the nursing staff when I undress. Tiny Moe does not appreciate hearing that someone's Thumb is more overpowering.

So, I went to the clinic where they took a bottle of my urine. Urine is a precious resource these days and you have to bottle it, stamp it, tag it and worship it. After that I had to sign for it and return for work.

About two weeks later I got the results back and was called into the office. It was negative except for opiates and about 20 others for which I quickly whipped out the prescriptions I had and was assured I was not in there for failing my screen. So I asked, "What's up?"

My boss said that the clinic sent a note saying there was an extra amount of blood in my urine and the Doctors were concerned about that. Apparently they thought I should seek an APPOINTMENT. I looked at my boss and in typical Elad humor responded by saying "No charge for the blood donation." My boss has no sense of humor or else doesn't appreciate mine.

I scheduled an appointment and for the next two weeks suffered the horror stories from my coworkers about how I was going to lose parts of Tiny Moe to all the sample gatherers. By the time two weeks had passed, I think I went in wearing 4 pairs of underwear for protection. I wasn't going to make it easy on them.

Upon entering, The Doctor informed me that they were going to perform a battery of tests on Tiny Moe and everything that was above him. I never dreamed what they can do to Tiny Moe. Who designs these tests? Ex wives no doubt!

He shoved me in this room where there was a chair that The Marquee De Sade' would envy. It had things popping out from everywhere. I think it’s probably similar to one of those chairs designed by ex husbands for the ObGyn's. I looked this monstrosity over for what appeared to be years but in actuality was only 15 minutes. That's called the Sobering Period. It softens you up for the doctor so that he can come in and apply all these devices while you sit there in a state of shock.

About that time, a nurse walked in. She was the most beautiful thing I had seen up to that point. (That was before I met Boo Kity .) This is no doubt some type of sick joke by my doctor, for you see Tiny Moe was metamorphosing into Andre' The Giant. OK so I'm embellishing here. It’s my story! Anyhow, she threw me a towel and told me to STRIP from the waist down. I thought...what a doctors office and immediately pulled my pants down, Then I heard a shriek and was told...NOT NOW! I was like "ok! What a bummer. She left mumbling that she's not into Underdog Boxers. Doesn't every man have a pair of these?

After a few more minutes the Doctor entered looking like the guy I gave change to yesterday on the corner. He informed me that he was going to insert a camera inside Tiny Moe and look around. Is this called Role reversal for males? Then he just left. About that time a nurse entered and left and I had another sobering period. Now during this time, I had a horrible thought. What if one of the nurses was going to be there? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that placing a camera inside during that time period just wasn't going to work. Then I thought "Naaaaa, the doc won’t do that to me".

Again the door opened and the Doc came in by himself. He washed his hands and explained what he intended to do and with each word caused Tiny Moe to shrink even further into obscurity. I was beginning to think he might have to insert that camera through my ass to find out anything.

About that time the door opened and in came two nurses. I could have sworn I'd seen both of them in Playboy the month before. They were both wearing short skirts too. Tiny Moe was starting to feel like Elavator-Man. In my thoughts I just kept thinking, "No way Man! They’ll leave. Hey! IM naked under here.”

It was then that something happened that struck sheer horror in me. Both of the nurses came over by me and got on either side of the chair I was in. They grabbed my hand petting it and in a calm tone replied "There! There! Everything's going to be all right." Tiny Moe began his ascent to heaven about the same time that the nurse to my right reached down, grabbed the towel and tossed it in the corner. This is a true story I'm telling. For a brief second Tiny Moe froze in his tracks. Then started his ascent again. It was barely noticeable but I was highly embarrassed already. It was then that my brain focused on football. That didn't work so I thought about the ugliest woman I ever saw. That didn't work either. It took a concentrated effort and Gay sex to keep Tiny Moe from losing it. I'm not anti gay...don't get me wrong. I'm just not gay and that seemed to tame him for a second.

The doctor then leaned over and brutally grabbed Tiny Moe. He placed a tube near his mouth and then I watched as this tube entered me for what seemed like miles. On the TV near me it was like watching one of those birth movies. You know where they enter the vagina and its like your on a trip up Happy River. The doctor said "Hmmmm"! I don't like to hear Hmmm while someone is looking inside me so naturally I in a state of calm asked "WHAT DID YOU FIND DOC? WILL HE LIVE?"

Then he looked at me and calmly replied...Oh nothing yet. Then he added, "Ok, now I'm going to enter your bladder. This might be just a tad uncomfortable because there's a valve there that doesn't like going the other way.

I said "OKaaaaaa!", as it entered. He was right. Pain has a new name. The nurses held my hands down or I may have hit him for such an understatement. Once inside it looked cool. Modern medicine is really fascinating but I don't recommend it for the feint of heart.

It was then that he said "Hmmmmmmm!" again.

I looked at him and said "OK Doc! Tell me the bad news." He reached up and slapped the TV and the picture changed. I was relieved to know it was just a glitch. Then he said "I can’t really see anything wrong! But...If I were you I'd see a doc about once a year just to keep track of things."

I assured him I would but thought to myself...Sure if...you drag me in here. Then he pulled the two miles of tubing he had inside me out along with my bladder, prostrate and pieces of Tiny Moe! After I stopped screaming the nurses told me to get dressed and wait in the waiting room. Inside my thoughts were kind of like this...."That's it? After all this I don't get a nurse, a pat on my back or a sucker?" I humbly dressed and went to the waiting room. There they gave me the bill and Tiny Moe disappeared from sight for about a week. It's a very humbling traumatic experience. All the way home, I consoled him as much as I could but...I don't think he's ever forgiven me for that.

Chapter 4 The Smoker

It was a rough day and to make matters worse, his ear was bothering him a lot. His girl friend, who loved him very much, insisted he see a doctor for that. What’s with women, just because your ear is swollen shut, they freak out and send you to the Doctor. So he whipped into the clinic parking lot and shut the engine down. Entering the clinic, they made him take a number and fill out a paper about four feet long. You know the one, that asks you about all the diseases you once had and your first born as a deposit. He filled it out and while he was waiting on the doctor went outside to smoke a cigarette.

It was then he noticed the peculiar behavior in the clinic. The blinds were opening in selected spots. Yes that’s right…the clinic was full of do good non-smokers and they wanted me to live forever. Six diff window blind slots each in different windows were open and its occupants were peeping. I felt the eyes on my back as I inhaled deeply and the rush of the smoke filled my lungs. I’m sure they were ExSmokers attempting to enforce their will on me. That’s the trouble with ExSmokers…If they cant smoke they don’t want anyone to smoke. I drew in the smoke again and pretended like it was the best cigarette I ever had. Hmmmmph! Like they could force Moi, Elad Nostaw, into submission. Once again I drew in the satanic smoke and blew it against the open windows. Then I put it out on the palm of my hand and turned to see all of the blinds closing as I walked towards the front of the building.

I must have had an effect because as soon as I rounded the corner six exsmokers were out front lighting up and acting like they enjoyed it. They gave me a dirty look as I entered the building but…. at least I didn’t have to wait anymore and they took me to this room and left me there.

The room, sometimes know as “The Room Where Time Stands Still” was painted in a bland blue color. It had sports pictures everywhere so I’m assuming football is as dangerous as smoking. No one bans that. Sheesh…people complain about all of those Cigarette butts on the ground but…you never hear them complain about all of those peanut packages or beer cans hanging around after the Dallas Game. Do you think they make them go outside to play football? Hell No! They build gigantic domes of marble and gold just so they can play inside. They even have cheerleaders cheer as bones break and the guy across the line gets his face smashed in. The poor dumb bastard in the band gets ran over and what happens? He’s an instant TV celebrity. The most attention anyone pays to a smoker is when the little ole lady on the bus says, “Put that out. You’re killing us all with second hand smoke!” I blew smoke in her face and said…you’re 80…. its about time someone put you out of your misery! It was then a salesman accosted me. It appears he sold knee high hose and I was talking about limiting his business. Anyway, back to the room time forgot.

I waited about………….2 days and the doctor finally made his appearance. He asked me the problem. He must have graduated top in his class since I was holding my ear and the lobe was throbbing on the floor while I sat on one of those high table tops he was probably screwing his nurses on. I mean…no wonder they have to go to college 8 years. I told him my ear was bothering me and he took this light and looked inside my right one. He said…. WOW! That’s a bad looking ear. I didn’t hear him because I was making shadow animals in the light emitted from my left ear on the wall. It was then he repeated himself but my girlfriend told him…He can’t hear Doc…his ears are swollen shut. (And think call women the weaker sex.) My Bookity was more adept at fixing ears than he was.

About that time he looked in my left ear all the while I was making more shadow animals on the opposite wall. The Doc said…..hmmmmmm! I think your ears are infected. Bookity looked at him kind of funny. Or maybe she’s was pissed my shadow animals had progressed to Goddess like figures of the naked female anatomy. Who knows what lurks in the minds of women.

The Doc asked me how long it had been that way so I lied and told him it just happened…right before I entered the building. That’s male code for about 5 or 6 days. He winked so as not to alarm Bookity. You know how women worry! Bookity once freaked out just because I dragged my leg behind me dangling on a piece of skin for days. I mean I know she worries but it just needed a band-aid and some of that new Hard Cider they show on TV now.

It was then that the Doctor made one mistake. He told me my sinuses were plugged, handed me 4 prescriptions and asked…Do you smoke? He crossed the line. I said…Uhhhhh…..about a pack a day: Once again code. The doctor’s expression changed once he learned that I smoked like a freight train. He wanted to drop the subject but Bookity asked…What’s wrong Doc? He looked at me and I could see sheer fear on his face. He moved backwards but Bookity is persistent if nothing else. What’s wrong Doc? She asked once again. He was now in the corner…. trembling and looked at her. She had a face that would make any man tell the truth. She has this cute expression that makes you go…Awwwwrrrrr! And tell your life story in all its truthful glory. I cant lie to her myself so I knew the Doc was doomed. The Doc said politely…. Well…smoking is bad for your sinuses and it would be better if he didn’t smoke.

It was about that time that I rose. While Bookity talked to him about “Stop Smoking Aids” I took his light and placed it to my ear. In bright shadow letters on the wall behind Bookity I spelled out “You Will Die” on the wall. He backed up finally leaping from the second story window. Bookity had a puzzled look on her face but I added…. He must have had a pressing engagement on the first floor. On the way down in the elevator she discussed the ills of smoking with me. As the door opened we walked up to the pay desk. The nurse there handed us a paper, which I assumed to be the bill. It was handed to Bookity with long tongs and on the bill in bright letters it said…”No Charge!” We thanked them and left the building just in time to see a Porsche leaving the parking lot containing our Doc.

All the way home I got the typical Bookity speech about how I am going to have to stop smoking. Of course I agreed, who can refuse someone named Boo Kity ? So now I am on the “Every Three days I lose a cigarette from the pack method’! I did convince her I smoked 3 packs a day even though it was only two so I bought myself some time. In the meantime, I am sitting here…ticking…thinking about that last cigarette…. waiting for the moment I will explode and track that doctor down!

Chapter 5 The Dentist

I was 46 and scheduled for my third trip to the dentist this lifetime. I was an old pro at this after having endured so many visits. They were uneventful. No cavities! A good cleaning....the obligatory remark of "Brush between meals and don't forget that all important floss." Yes, a pro. After the third trip, I should be receiving frequent flier miles. Real men don't go to the dentist. And there's a reason why.

This was a new dentist. Having been in Indianapolis for ten years, I deserved the best, so I asked my buddy who to go to. He told me his Dentist, Dr Mal P. Practice was the best, so I set up an appointment. I phoned his office and a sarcastic dental assistant I was sure still had pimples answered the phone.

"Dr. Mal's office can I help you?" The voice said.

"Yes, my name is Mr. Watson. I need to have a checkup and a cleaning." I said confidently.

"Well, can you be here Thursday at 3:30?" she asked.

"That's fine" I told her and hung up the phone.

It wasn't long and Thursday rolled around. As I entered the office I filled out the proper forms including the ones that ask you what diseases you've had before. Just for fun I added Bubonic Plague to see if they actually read it. I'd had the measels (German, not those wimpy measles), mumps (on the right side), Chicken Pox (Though, I've never seen a chicken with them) and Hepatitis (The sickest I've ever been). After she took the forms I had the customary wait of two hours before it was my turn. On the walls were numerous signs you often see in the Dentists office. One said 'We cater to cowards'. Ha! I thought. Just my kind of dentist. In the hall was another one that plainly stated 'Pain Free Dentistry one flight up.' However, I could find no stairs located anywhere. (Don't you hate a dentist with a sense of humor?)

Eventually they called my name and the dental assistant escorted me to the back room. Not long after that an older gentlemen entered with the silver disc in the middle of his forehead. I had often thought of those as belonging to coal miners. Perhaps coal miners and dentists do have a lot in common. He pried open my mouth and said "Hmmmmm. Yesssss. Yes, Yes. X-rays nurse." And calmly walked back into another room.

The nurse wheeled a giant arm over near my jaw. It had a long hollow tube extending from it and looked like something out of a bad Buck Rogers movie from the 50's.

"Don't move!" she said and lit me up with enough X Rays to power New York City for three months. I could hear my teeth silently screaming "Help. I'm melting." Then she moved the machine to the other jaw and I'm certain I could hear Pittsburgh black out as the X Rays beamed through my head. For just a split second....all bacterial motion ceased in my head and then resumed with newly found mutated appendages to propel themselves with. After that they took the films into a dark room where I'm sure the dentists place them on the wall and throw darts at the tiny target price tags they secretly install to pass the boredom of the day.

Eventually he emerged and plainly stated "Mr. Watson...you have a cavity."

I immediately cut him off at the pass.

"There must be some mistake Doc. I have never had a cavity before. I think you looked at the X Rays wrong." I stated sternly. It pays to have back up comments like that ready. They aren't expecting an argument and since they charge you by the hour but never see you for that long, it helps you get your money's worth. Even in a two hour session, Doctors only see you two or three minutes at a time before they move to the next patient so at the most, you actually only see them 15 minutes tops. The rest of the time a nurse leads you around doing things. I'm not paying for an hour of Doctor's pay without....getting an hour from him so I have learned how to throw up smoke screens to keep them there.

He placed the X Ray on his important looking black light looking thingy and said "Oh no, Mr. Watson. You see there it is right there" and pointed to my tooth on it. "It's obviously a cavity!"

"Well, that my be Doc but It doesn't hurt. Why should I get it fixed if it ain't broke yet?" I asked. That one comment always throws any Doctor into overdrive. They see the sale slipping away but any good Doctor worth his weight in salt can always come up with the appropriate answer as to why you should fix something that isn't broke yet. Its the only profession where they get away with that.

"Well, you see Mr. Watson, it could become abscessed. Not good at all. Why we'd have to take out all of your teeth and perhaps a jaw or two in the worst case scenario." He stated firmly. "I couldn't in all good conscience let that happen to you."

For just a moment, I seriously considered taking the next 8 years in a college just to be able to tell if he was lying to me or not. Alas, I opted for the filling but.....not today!

I returned two weeks later when he promised to clean my teeth and tell me if he had to pull the tooth or he could just fill it. On this visit, he sat me in a chair that reclined in all manner of awkward positions. Then he numbed my jaw by injecting Novocain in my inner lips and gums. I looked in the mirror while he was gone and my left lip hung precariously low. It looked totally ridiculous just hanging there. I lifted it with my finger, let go and watched in horror as it fell limply back over my lower lip. My eye began to flutter as if a wind had blew past it, an obvious side effect of the Novocain. Novocain is a really weird drug. I also started day dreaming while I was waiting. I suddenly had visions of having sex with Bookity in the dentists chair. Teeth danced in my mind cheering us on. Have any of you guys had this experience? The chair was remarkable and reclined in any direction at any angle. Think about the possibilities.

I was then rejoined by the Doctor who immediately stuck something under my lip. He was about to clean my teeth! I heard him scrub. I heard him scour. Then he stuck a tube in my mouth and sucked up my tongue.

"Ooops! Sorry about that Mr. Watson." He said embarrassed.

Then he repositioned the tube in my mouth that either blew air in it or a liquid. In any event I watched in horror as my salvia shot up in the air hitting him in a fine mist right between the eyes. I felt helpless with my numb mouth to stop this indignant behavior but at the same time smiled inside. I was thinking "For lifting me of my economic possessions, this was a fitting demise." It was about that time that he once again left. I had all manner of items in my mouth in a vain attempt to keep my mouth open and my tongue away from the object of his life's work. My tongue took on a life of its own, searching probing but finding nothing. He had already drilled my tooth from its rightful place! The bastard! We never even talked about that. I was supposed to be cleaned first followed by a lot of foreplay. I mean, if they are going to take your bestest buddy Mr. Tooth, the least they can do is stroke your ego first. I felt dirty, soiled and used. There was a vacancy in my mouth and no renters to fill the position. I could not cry out while my mouth was so numb and crowded with mechanical objects. It was all I could do to mumble softly and all of the well thought out curse words fell harmlessly on my numb lips.

Shortly after that he returned and shoved what he called epoxy resin up in what was left of my poor tooth. Then he stuck a blue light inside placing it on either side. I assumed it was to place his brand on the wayward tooth as if he had branded a bull in the rodeo. Imagine that. A tooth made of composites. I will be dead one day but my tooth will live on with a half life of 10,000 years. He then sat me up, told me to brush every day and be sure to floss. He then went too far. He asked for money! I had to explain to him that I thought the insurance would pay that and that I had to mail it to him. He agreed and I left his office a changed man.

I was no longer human but like the other millions of people who had lost teeth in this manner. I was flesh and bone to say the least but I was also epoxy resin. I was a toothbot! Half man and half something else not quite human. As I sit writing this short story, I can remember fondly the days when I had all my teeth. Now I stand before you a broken man. Nay, not a whole man but 31/32nds of the man I used to be. As I returned home, I cried in Bookities lap wondering how could she love a man that was no longer ALL man. She laughed and grinned. You see Bookity is a toothbot too. Perhaps it will draw us closer together somehow!

And from Elad to all of you, remember this: Be sure to brush those teeth and floss or you could end up a toothbot too. :)