The Teeth That Cling

Okay, so here it is... a long time coming. Many of you might be curious about the reference to one of my traumatic incidents, I suffered as a child... the remarks of rape, how tears tasted on cold vinyl, and the dentist. Take a seat, raise your feet, and hear my lullaby cry.

When I was a young child, my parents took my to the dentist, just as every parent does... we'd suffer the trauma to win a prize at the end of visit. A new plastic toy from the goody box... or an aftertaste, not so minty fresh. The dentist office we went to had only one room for cleaning / oral surgeries... it was a large room with chairs lining three sides of the adjoining walls. The other empty wall had the treasure chest and a little play table. The waiting room was separate and the parents would be forced to wait outside and read the old, crusty pages of last months magazines. We had been going to the same dentist for a long time, longer than I could remember... but long enough to have that treasure chest burned into my childish mind. On one visit, my parents were informed that I needed some oral surgery... the gum line on my lower, two front teeth was receding do to a birth defect. It was a relative simple surgery, they would remove some gum tissue from the roof of my mouth and graft it on to my lower gum line... giving me the needed support and protection for those new teeth. I remember being nervous, like any child would be... even though we always got a toy for behaving, it was still an unpleasant visit. The day arrived, my father took me to the dentist, and I cried when they took me into the back... my spirit new something was different this day, forever changing my life, and I wept when my father was refused to escort me back into "the room". It started like any checkup, I was helped into the over-sized, vinyl chair and had a bib attached around my neck. Today was different, I was the only child in the room, the only patient in that wide opened room... the air was stale and still, smelling of old, smoked cigarettes. Next came the shots into the roof of my mouth, followed by some gas that made me a bit dizzy. Then things changed... I'll never forget the few memories that penetrated my innocent mind and shattered the dancing child within. I remember the dentist and two assistants, a male and a female, unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down to my ankles... I can still feel the cold, damp, chair against my naked flesh. I began getting very nervous, not understanding why my pants and underwear had been pulled down and why they were surrounded me on each side. The female assistant leaned over, pressing her breasts against my face, as the dentist placed one hand on my trembling leg. I couldn't see what was happening, but I could feel it when it broke the skin without prejudice... a "needle" was pushed deep into my right thigh. The male assistant, reached over and pinned down my left leg and another "needle" was inserted deeply into my left thigh. I say "needle", because all I could see was the woman's breast pushed tightly against my face... it felt sharp like a needle and there was something definitely stuck in my thighs. I began crying and moaning, and begging for them to stop... the reply rings clearly to this very day. The dentist replied, "I'm not going to take them out until you settle down and stop crying... this is going to happen.". It seemed like hours passed, the pain was excruciating, and I began dripping urine out of my tiny, scared penis. The next thing I remember was being rolled on my left side, facing the two assistants... the woman was holding down my shoulders and cheek against the vinyl chair and the male was stationed at  my lower half, rubbing my legs gently.  I remember hearing the woman moan as she rammed my face further into the chair. I could feel the dentist at my backside, although I have no active memory after he touched my hips... the last thing I remember was the taste of the chair mixed with my tears, running down my throat. In that instant, the child disappeared, and what followed will never be fully known. After years of therapy, it has been decided that I was anally assaulted by the dentist while the assistants fondled and caressed themselves and myself. I remember going home and seeing blood in the toilet that afternoon... not understanding why I was bleeding from my bottom and my mouth. A few days later, the stitches that were holding the graft in place, fell out and the newly attached flesh died... to this day, I still have the same condition on my lower, two front teeth. All that time and money was wasted and I didn't even receive a toy from the ordeal. My "treat" from the "goody, treasure chest" lasted far longer than any cheap, plastic toy... it's still with me today, and shall be for the rest of this life. My only regret is that the procedure was a failure... that lowered gum line makes me very self-conscious about smiling. Not to mention, going to the dentist has been a nightmare filled with panic and heartaches ever since...