Doc woke up early the next day. Early for him. He came
downstairs at the crack of noon and went for breakfast at the chinks. After
some steak and eggs he walked up and over to the Bullshead saloon. He walked in
through the door and put his saddlebags on the bar.
“Is Thompson around” Doc asked the bartender who was
polishing glasses. “I want to get the key for the office around back. He said
he would rent it to me.” “He’s not in yet but he told me to give you the key.”
He took the key from behind the bar and handed it over. “Just go around back by
the stairway.” “Thanks partner” Doc said. He picked up his bag and walked
outside.
The office was dusty and unkempt. There were two chairs and
a table. It would have to do. He set up one chair next to the window. There was
good light. How long it would last was the question. He would have to get some
oil lamps. You needed to have good light if you were going to yank out molars.
Or at least the right molar. You didn’t want to take out the wrong tooth. That
could make a patient ornery.
Doc laid out the tools of his trade. A probe. A mirror at
the end of a metal tool. Some cotton balls. A small set of dental cement.
Silver for the fillings. Tincture of mercury to mix with the silver. A small
collection of bottles of laudanum. Most importantly a pair of sturdy pliers. He was ready for business. The question was
who would be his patients. He might need to get a sign or something.
Speak and you shall receive. There was a knock at the door.
It opened and the burly form of Deputy Williams strode into the room.
“Hey Mr. Holliday. Or should I say Doctor Holliday. I was
wondering if I could talk to you.” “Certainly Deputy. But I wasn’t the only one
who was there. Mr. Hickok was fully justified in what he did. He was more
patient than I would have been and that’s a fact.” “No doubt about that. Bill
can be sudden sometimes but that is not my concern. In fact I have to talk to
you about something a little embarrassing.” “Sure Mike if I can all you Mike.
What can I help you with?” “It’s my tooth. It hurts powerful Doc. I wonder if
you could help me.” “Certainly Deputy. Have a seat and let me take a look.”
Deputy Williams sat in the arm chair in the streaming light
from the window and grabbed hold of the arms.
He put his head back and opened his mouth. Doc took his probe and mirror
and bent over to look at his mouth.
“Which side is hurting Mike?” “On the left” said Williams as
he squeezed the arms of the chair. “I see one of them that is particularly bad.
It’s broken clear through. I have to pull it. That is going to hurt a powerful
piece Deputy.” “Just do it Doc. Soonest started sooner ended.” “Let’s take a
break for a second” said Doc as he stepped away.
“Pain is nothing to be ashamed of Mike and this is the worst
pain there is short of being gut shot. So I like to have you take a little laudanum
to take the edge off. Otherwise you will bite down and I need all of my
fingers.” “You don’t have to worry Doc I can take it” said the burly Deputy. “I
won’t bite you I promise.”
“That’s all well and good but I will be digging around to
get out all the shards and pieces. Nobody could stand that without a little
help. I also want to tie your hands down. Otherwise you will just naturally
grab your mouth and that will be dangerous for the both of us. Trust me I have
done this many times before.“
“I guess I have to trust you Doc. Give it over and let’s get
started.” Doc ladled out a healthy dosage of the opiate and let him drink. They
gave it a half hour to work. Williams got sleepy and lethargic and Doc secured
his hands to the arms of the chair. It was not all that sturdy. But it would
have to do.
Doc bent over the supine form of the sagging Deputy in the
chair. He opened his mouth and touched the offending molar. The mountain of a
man twitched and moaned a little. Doc waited and moment and then put his
forceps on the tooth and yanked with all of his wiry strength. He got most all of
the tooth but Deputy Williams did not take it kindly. He jerked up with all his
strength and a loud sound that was part groan and part scream. Sort of like a
gut shot grizzly. He had broken one arm of the chair in half and tore the other
right out of the base. He opened his eyes and shook his head to clear the
cobwebs and the pain.
“Hells Bells Doc” he burbled. “What the Sam hill did you do.” “You’re
lucky Mike. I think I got it all on the first shot. It looks that way anyways.
Here.” He handed him some cotton. “Put this in your mouth and bite down. I want
to see if I can staunch the bleeding. Otherwise I might have to give you a
stitch and I don’t think either of us want to do that.”
Williams untied himself from the shattered chair and stuffed
the cotton into his mouth. The pain was intense as it throbbed and pulsed. He
spit out a gob of blood on to the floor. Dentistry was a bloody business of
this there was no doubt.
With the cotton stuffed in his mouth the deputy's usual gift of gab
was somewhat muffled. He nodded at Doc and indicated that he wanted to know
what he owed for the service. Doc handed his some more cotton and a half bottle
of laudanum.
“That will be five dollars. Sorry but I have to buy another
chair.” Deputy Williams paid up without demur. He just wanted to get out of
there. He stood up shakily and walked out the door.
Doc looked at the wreckage of his office. It matched the
wreckage of his life. He bent to start cleaning up the mess. He would have to
go to the smithy to have him jury rig him a chair. Sometimes he thought that
being a gambler would be easier. In fact he knew it would be easier. He had
promised Mattie he would try to live an honest life. He would give it one more
try. But a few more days like this and he didn’t know what he would do.
24 comments:
That was gruesome. Almost as good as that Dakota Urban Legend being spun though. Quite a tale.
A very good description of dentistry in that era. But, please don't write about the even more gruesome specialty of surgery.
I like the hurt like a gut shot part. Gut shot is high on my list of ways I don't want to die.
A few years back some friends had a horrible tragedy. One son shot the other in a domestic dispute. I attended the trial to support the family. What can you say? I hope they convict the bastard who shot your son? I hope your son catches a break and gets off? To add to the pain of the family, it was a classic "he deserved to die" case.
Anyhow, the coroner (a racquetball buddy) testified in excruciating detail of how the victim likely suffered as he lay there dying. Grisly stuff that would turn Clarence Thomas white. Not how I want to go.
As a callow yute I remember my father describing the shot that took out Lee Harvey Oswald - I don't remember precisely all the organs that Ruby hit, but it seems like the list included his spleen, aorta, a lung or two, maybe his liver - anyway, he was not long for this world, not that we care about a commie one way or the other.
I no longer proof read malpractice depositions so I don't have any fresh stories about guts and gore, but back in the day, hoowee - I had a million of 'em.
So, in summation, I think that a sudden fatal heart attack has a certain charm to it - no lingering, the cats get to eat your eyeballs, and you avoid death panels, kangaroo courts and political inquisitions.
Time for more bacon!
I always liked Inspector Luger's rants about growing old vs. catching a bullet on Barney Miller.
The dogs were walking around on top of the snow, and what do you know - it is dense enough to support me, too.
I did shovel some of it - it's more of a Slurpee consistency now, not at all fluffy.
It is also 58 degrees out there - I can't tell you how odd it is for the air to be that warm and yet there is still snow everywhere.
In any case, I am grateful for global warmening, even if it would have been more useful a day or two ago.
My Dad stroked out in his sleep, the best way to go.
I'd love to go peacefully in my sleep, just like my Uncle Frank did. Not screaming and yelling like the passengers on his bus.
My uncle died in a head on automobile accident. His two young daughters, my cousins, survived. Can't have been fun for any of them.
Quick, ladies, a blow job, our bus driver is nodding off!
I want someone to stand beside my corpse and say:
"Well, if he had to get it, that's the way he would've wanted it"
Silver for the fillings.
It don't work without the mercury. Gotta make a silver mercury amalgam. It shapes like a paste. You push it in to the cracks and crevasses and then keep pushing, squeezing and sucking the mercury out and leaving the silver behind. It's basic old school dentistry.
Sixty, did you feel the earthquake?
Did it move for you, windbag?
According to the latest Valentine's Day Report, Sixty was over at Lem's talking smack about hermaning in the tent with Carol and feeling the earth move under his feet so who knows what state he was in.
Denial, disrepair, confusion, sorry...the states are endless, eh?
Hmm - 4.1 - had to look at the news to learn that - did not feel it.
Felt the last one, knew right away what it was, after experiencing many of them in CA.
I don't like them regardless of which coast I am on.
The bad thing about having an earthquake on Valentine's Day is that everyone thinks you're a wiseguy when you ask, "Did you feel the earthquake last night?"
chick, It's called "drill, fill and bill" dentistry.
chick - I can still remember that sound of the silver filling being packed into the cavity. It was like a subdued squeak, if you can imagine such a sound, and was quite pleasant after the agony of the drilling.
Oh ricpic, that sound is worse in my imagination than the sound of snow squeaking. The other sound that preceded the process was the shaking of amalgam mixer. The part I liked least was the acrid burning smell that accompanied the drilling. I also wasn't fond of the numbing injections. My dad was a dentist, and I'd reached the point as an adult where I could trust him to fill smaller cavities without the use of anesthetic, because he'd tell me what he was doing. He was a craftsman who did fine work and liked to talk with his patients. He didn't make a ton of money with his practice, but left behind a number of loyal and appreciative patients who missed him when he died. It took me a while to find another dentist I could trust. As a child, the rinse and spit ritual was something I liked doing, with the sound of the ever running water in the spit bowl serving as a comforting white noise. I still miss him, and your mention of the sound of the silver being packed took me right back to him and his office through the gateway of sensory memory.
The pliers on this post is as gruesome as the tale.
The tooth pullers I remember from my father's collection had one movable jaw and the dentist would place the jaw over the tooth to be removed and rotate the handle, clamping the tooth between the jaw and the shank of the tool, and I am certain, create a wonderful crunching noise as the tooth was extracted.
There was an old dentist drill we played with, too. It was foot powered and must have run at several hundred RPM - oh yeah, high tech for the late 19th century.
My father collected old medical and dental tools. The first saw I ever used to saw wood, I later learned, was a Civil War era bone saw.
And don't get me started on the 18th century bleeders was had around the place - those suckers were gruesome.
When he died the tools went to collectors and still turn up in local museums and the like. That's the best place for them.
Waxy-squeaky is better than subdued squeaky. And don't ask a poet to splain why waxy-squeaky is better, it just is!
Aroma Bohemian
When waxy-squeaky met scratchy-stinky
Upon the Pont de Neuf,
It bested archie and mehitabel
It was the height of goof:
"Go take a bath!" "Go oil your parts!"
The badinage rang out,
And then each went his separate way
Immersed in arts and farts.
Oops. archy and mehitabel.
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