I wanted to save them, as objects of contemplation . . . something to chew over.

The actual procedure took a total of maybe 3 minutes.

First, four shots, one of them into the roof of my mouth. That DID hurt.

Then, ten minutes later, three extractions, three yanks, taking not even one minute altogether.

For this, my co-pay was $197 and insurance pays $481. All total, $220 per tooth.

WHY? Well, look around the office. Four people on computers, for paperwork. Two aides, two doctors.

What has caused this vast increase in personnel? And thus, of course, increased office space.

My new regular dentist the same way: At least four people on computers, for paperwork. At least two aides, only two dentists.

I would have kept going to the dentist I’ve had for 20 years, who is marvelous — but he urged me to switch to a dentist that is “in the system.” He is not. Works alone, with his wife as both attendant, and on computer. The way it used to be. The way it should be.

I remember my doctor dad, who also had his own individual practice, bemoaning the horrors of socialized medicine, what he knew was coming. He would have very much appreciated the stubborn character of my old dentist.

Aftermath: Having walked two miles to the dentist, in case I needed someone to drive me home afterwards, I ended up wanting to walk home too. They set me up with a pharma pain prescription, if I wanted it; I didn’t, told them I would take 300 mg CBD gummies. Which are working just fine. It IS weird, my tongue feeling the contours of my palate without those three teeth, but not as weird as I expected. I can eat fine, soft foods for now, though I postponed even that for four hours. Still a bit of blood leaking onto regularly changed gauze pads, but likely almost done. Not much pain. Not as much pain as when that area would flare up, which it did, regularly and often, for, son Colin tells me, at least nine years. Really? I had no idea.

On balance, it feels good, correct, this release. And possibly, just in time.