I, First Molar

I lost a tooth.  That could be very bad news.  There aren't any around to grow back in.  Those days are long gone.   But this was one of two "baby" teeth I had that was meant to fall, any way.  I've consulted a tooth chart:  It was the "first molar" on the lower left side of my mouth.  We'd shared some time together, you and I, First Molar.  You’ve chewed it all.  I've put you on my shelf.  I'm not sure if I'm ready to part with you just yet.

Not only am I OK with loosing this tooth, in fact it makes me feel balanced.  My "first molar" on the other side only made it with me forty-two years or so.  I've had a benign vacuity where that tooth had been for a while now.  And as the opposite tooth began to feel loose and sensitive, I'd favor that other side of my mouth.  It has been a long swan song for this recalcitrant piece of ivory. 

The range of movements was modest at first, and then during the last month, broadened considerably.  There was, however a firm rooting that, if pushed upon would hold and suggest great pain, should I choose to push any harder.  I'd press it up to the point of no return.  Earlier this week I was fiddling with it in an idle moment, getting my phone fixed and it gave a bit more in one direction than it ever had, surprising me. Now it had notably more room to wiggle and in fact could easily come loose and be a source of pain if it settled improperly and had pressure exerted on it chewing.  Still, I thought it would probably continue on wiggling around in there through the New Year. 

I considered the old, string-tied-to-the-tooth, tethered-to-a swinging-door trick that always sounded insanely excruciating.  No, I'd sit tight.  We know this routine from childhood.  The roots will continue to give the nerve endings recede further and further till it has no more tendrils to grab with.  Today, eating a finely chopped tuna salad, it slid free. In the end there was no exertion, no errant chomp, and fortunately not even the faintest hint of pain.  It just gave up trying to hold on.  Some final sinew was loosened and now it is in my hand.  There is, what seems to me, an enormous bone-like shaft at the base that must have anchored things for the last forty-nine years of chewing.  These physical bits are animate so long as they are connected to our nerves.  Without that tie they are properly severed from the self that is.