So this is what the inside of my face looks like:
You didn't know I was the Ghost Rider, did you?
See that sideways tooth on the bottom left? That’s my right wisdom tooth.
I have no pain, but my dentist was concerned about it and suggested I go consult an oral surgeon. Six months later, my next dental appointment rolled around.
“Did you do anything about those wisdom teeth?” he asked, knowing full well I had not.
So I went to the damned oral surgeon. They sat me down in a chair to wait, and directly across from me was a tray of tools, most of which were concealed beneath a drape.
Is it safe?
Meh. I’ve seen tools before. I’m really not worried about surgery. The oral surgeon came in, took a quick look at my bottom wisdom teeth, and said he would take out all four.
This does not shock me. One of my top wisdom teeth is making like it wants to poke through at any time, and I know it’s easier for him to go in there and take them all out at once. Then I don’t have to deal with two surgeries and two recoveries. Hell, it may even be a good time to try the reboot diet since my face will have been flayed open and I won’t be able to eat normal for a while.
He said “Okay, I’ll send in the office girls to go over the insurance with you.”
Right on. I have insurance. It’s cool. I can use a few days off work.
Office girl came in with a fat stack of papers. To my relief, it was just a pad of the same form over and over and over. It basically said “If we screw this up, you can’t sue us.” Whatevs. Scribble. I’ll just kick his skull in instead.
Then she handed me the quote, and the real terror began.
The horror... the horror...
They’ve got to be kidding. Yes, this is sans insurance, but one would think they’d have told me this before sticking it in my face. Also, one would think they would tell me they are not in my insurance network before I sat down and agreed to have my face ripped apart.
It occurs to me, this isn’t a bill to pay for the surgery. No, it’s a bill to assure me the surgery will go well. That I won’t feel anything while he’s in there gouging out chunks of my jaw with a carving knife.
It occurs to me I can save a ton of money if I ask my karate instructor to put a few well-placed punches into the side of my face.
Time to make a few calls.
About Mike Oliveri
Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.