My Real Memoir
I was a new creation. Which was even more wonderful than it sounded—I finally knew my purpose. But new creations have bugs, most of which are holdovers from earlier, bungled versions. It was time to rethink every haphazard choice I’d inherited from Old Me, like my makeshift school of the arts and my ardent promiscuity. New Me 1.0 would need a lot of updates!
Another thing I’d inherited from Old Me was impacted wisdom teeth (new owner, same body). Getting the first one removed had been a painless trip to Dr. Extracto. So when, six years later, wisdom tooth #2 started screaming for attention (what had it been doing all this time?), I expected a repeat performance.
But, boy, was I fooled. My college tuition included free treatment by a dental student who’d chosen the wrong career. So on April 1st (yes, April Fool’s Day), I visited the university dental clinic. “Wow, this looks really bad!” said Dr. Inepto. Which, of course, immediately put me at ease.
He tried for over an hour, using conventional tools, to excavate the unwise tooth. And then, visibly frustrated, he pulled out a railroad spike and began pounding it against the obstinate molar. Almost immediately, the spike slipped and gouged a massive hole in my cheek. “Oooops!” he remarked reassuringly.
Finally, Dr. Inepto decided to break my tooth into tiny pieces with a fiendish little jackhammer. 2½ hours and fourteen Novocain shots later, he removed the last archaeological fragment. “I’m sorry,” she said with that far-away why didn’t I go into accounting? look.
I begged the school pharmacist for morphine, explaining that I had a chasm in my cheek the size of Lake Michigan. He gave me Tylenol. Which turned out to be roughly as effective as gummy worms. I drove straight to my unofficial girlfriend Dinah’s bungalow, and collapsed on her sofa. For three days, she nursed me with bouillon and herbal tea while I pleaded for her to kill me.
Fortunately, I had a satchel of books to help distract me from the torment. These included my secret Bible, which contained all kinds of things I never knew were there; for example, everything between Genesis and the book of Revelation. By now I’d read through the New Testament, and had a growing desire to be like the first followers of Jesus.
In addition, I was pouring through all things C.S. Lewis; a wonderful little tome called The Practice of the Presence of God; and the teachings of two very different Francises: the big-hearted Francis of Assisi and the big-brained Francis Schaeffer.
By the end of the weekend, I was feeling semi-human. Dinah and I watched Part One of the landmark miniseries Jesus of Nazareth. Despite the still-lingering pain, I was moved to tears. And so, despite her doubts, was my atheist girlfriend.
Easter arrived the following week, and for the first time in my life, I thought, Maybe I’ll go to church. So I drove to a nearby place of worship and slid quietly into the back pew. I didn’t know the songs, but at the end I joined the congregation in proclaiming, “He is risen indeed.” And then I slipped away as invisibly as I’d arrived. Nevertheless, I was beginning to think it might time for me…
To come out of the (prayer) closet.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
You are funny!!! There’s a laugh in every sentence, true “chicken soup for the soul.”
;>) Thanks, Christina!
So much to identify with in this! Excellent.
Thank you, Lori!
Dr. Inepto 🤣😂😅
Great shares here, my friend.
This is hilariously good! LOL
Why, thank you, Scott!
I loved Jesus of Nazareth. We are glad she did not kill you! lol! 🤣
Me too, Wenda (I am now anyway ;>).
😁🌺😉
Love your stories, Mitch, and your sense of humor! Life is better with laughs. 😂
It is indeed, Peggy.
Great post, Mitch! Your stories and your sense of humor are such fun!
Thank you, Sheila!
Yes! Thats how it goes! My Battle against my wisdom teeth happend nearly that way! I know it all: The hammer, the hole after the torture, the forgotten thread , the inflammation, spitting the pus (and Steve Gibbons sang “No spitting on the bus” that time on my cassette.)…. and the 3 Months later the next tooth… only one of four finds the normal way out off my mouth…
Sounds like your suffering may have trumped mine, Bludge! (Sorry, I don’t know your name.) My first was painless. The second was the massacre described above. And the last two (years later) were extracted under twilight sleep with minimal pain afterward.
Well, you chose some excellent tools for the assembly of the New Mitch–Lewis, Shaeffer, St. Francis of Assisi and Brother Lawrence. Out of curiosity, how you were led to these particular authors out of the hundreds of possibilities? Were they recommended to you or did God lead you to them more directly?
I already knew about Lewis and St. Francis. I found a list of Christian classics somewhere, and I also simply nosed around at a large Christian bookstore.
Simultaneously funny and deep, Mitch! I also went to a Dr. Inepto to have wisdom teeth removed who had long yellow nails, didn’t numb me properly, was talking to his assistant during the procedure about how to sell calling cards for extra income, and left a flap of gum in place of one of the teeth that my tongue still wanders to. 🙂
Oh, Kara, let’s hope the calling cards business allowed him to leave denstistry–immediately!
Lulu: “Our Dada saw the part about some assembly required for the New Me and said that it must have come from I-KEA. Then he laughed and laughed and laughed.”
Java Bean: “He is so silly sometimes.”
;>)
Interesting story. 🤣😎🙃
The story of Christ Jesus in then
Ives of people is beautiful and one day you will sing that song in glory and all will listen to your song
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