My 32-year-old son this week had his
wisdom teeth extracted. This brought back
memories of having mine removed. That is,
the top ones since the bottom ones I did lack.
At age twenty-seven the time for me had come -
without my ‘bottoms’, my ‘tops’ were chewing my gums.
Lacking half my ‘wisdom’ teeth didn’t make me dumb.
I worried when the dentist said “This could hurt some.”
The top one on my left pulled right out,
but, with the one on the right, no such luck.
The dentist pulled and yanked, ‘til he began to pout.
Hard as he could pull, that tooth remained stuck.
Next thing I knew, that crazy dentist had stood
up in the dental chair, one foot on either side.
Bending over double, pulling hard as he could,
he lurched backwards, saying “Keep open wide!”
I envisioned him losing his grip, going flying
through the air. What a sight that would have been!
But he twisted and yanked - like Hercules trying
over my ‘wisdom’ by his brute strength to win.
With one last tug, my stubborn tooth came out.
“Look! One of its roots had grown at a right angle.”
That dentist danced around, letting out a victory shout,
“Yours was the toughest tooth with which I ever had to tangle.”
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