The Bakersfield Californian

Dr. Benham reporting for tooth fairy duty

HERB BENHAM FOR THE CALIFORNIAN

‘Papa, can you take my tooth out?” Andrew said. Can I take your tooth out? I am a parent with four kids and I have pulled enough teeth to be certified as a dental professional. Yes, I can take your tooth out.

“Let me check and see how loose the tooth is,” I said. “We don’t want to take it out prematurely.”

I used the word “prematurely” because I wanted him to know how serious I was about my craft and understand that Papa didn’t make oral surgical moves willy-nilly.

His was a front tooth, maybe it’s always a front tooth but this was definitely a front tooth and not a big one at that. It was a tweener, a tooth requiring armed guards on either side for support.

“Wiggle it for me,” I said, and he did and although I may have concurred with his initial diagnosis, given my reputation as a cautious yet innovative oral surgeon, I had to wiggle it myself to assess its wiggleness.

“Andrew, I need a paper towel, a napkin or a washcloth,” I said, conscious of creating an antiseptic barrier between tooth, patient and oral surgeon.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sue said.

Did I wash my hands? Who do you think you’re talking to?

I took a bath, then a shower and that was after getting out of the ocean. I’m giving you notice that you are hereby fired as my dental assistant for questioning my hygiene.

You are fired and it’s not as if your job was secure anyway because you have a history of almost fainting at the sight of blood.

I tore a paper towel off the roll, placed it between my thumb and index finger and wiggled the tooth. It was, in fact, loose, and ready for extraction.

“Are you ready?” I asked quietly, in low, quiet tones as if I were a DJ on a late-night jazz station specializing in music for tooth removal.

“Is it going to hurt?” Andrew said. Not if I make a loud noise. Not if I grunt. Not if you’re made of the sort of stuff I think you’re made of.

I gripped the tooth, I looked into his eyes, I pulled straight up and the tooth came out as easily as a ripe carrot from spring dirt. I showed it to him and he was moved as my patients often are.

“What’s the going rate for teeth?” I asked Sue, who was now jobless but at least could be counted on to deliver current information on tooth fairy remuneration.

“Katie told me it’s $20,” Sue said. “She said something about inflation.”

Inflation? What is this Argentina in the ’70s? Pre-war Germany?

We got a buck when we were kids and we were happy to get a buck but a quarter wasn’t unheard of either.

The note from the tooth fairy read: “Dear Andrew

“I’m sorry your dog died.” (Andrew lost a dog and a tooth.) “I know you loved him very much. Thank you for the nice tooth! Please use this money to go with Papa to buy some baseball cards. Love the Tooth Fairy.”

Andrew put the tooth in a sandwich baggie and slid it under his pillow. The tooth fairy left $20 but forgot to take the tooth so the tooth fairy’s husband was summoned out of a dead sleep at 3 a.m. to fetch it.

Andrew had one tooth less, but was $20 richer and primed for a trip to the baseball card shop where he bought a Mickey Mantle, a Babe Ruth, a Cody Bellinger, a Sammy Sosa, a Mark McGwire, a Willie Mays, a Gaylord Perry and 14 others from a kindly older man who threw in a couple of extras because of a young fan’s enthusiasm. The missing tooth didn’t hurt either.

EYE STREET

en-us

2022-08-14T07:00:00.0000000Z

2022-08-14T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://bakersfield.pressreader.com/article/282110640389919

Alberta Newspaper Group