Now it can be told. (Does any know the statute of limitations on free lance dentistry?)

I like to think of myself as a pretty rugged guy, tough, resilient, laugh in the face of danger, "check my pulse, it don't change, stays 72 come shine or rain,"* kind of guy.  Of course, it isn't true, panic is a constant companion, I cringe at passing cars.  Every chill, sneeze, cough, sniffle, unexplained shudder signals a new wave of paranoia.  I am sure it is a signal of doom, the start of my death spiral.  The first shot in the war between my immune system and whatever fatal, debilitating, crippling, incurable illness that has come to claim my last dance.

Trust me, I pay close attention to the warnings that come with medicine, but, just as close to the warnings on televised advertisements for medicine.  And not just the potential side affects, either, though, those are a constant source of concern (sometimes the cure seems so much worse than the disease).

Last night I was watching television at home, and the commercials came on so I went and fixed myself, and my lovely charming wife, a cold drink, and a light, healthy snack, iced soda and chili cheese fries, for those keeping track at home.  I returned just in time to catch the end of the commercial for some medicine that would prevent, or solve, or delay some problem, or disease, or injury.

"Please tell your doctor about any unplanned medical or dental procedures."  The calm, reassuring voice said, calmly and with a comforting, reassuring tone.

"What medicine was he talking about?"  I asked my lovely, gentle, charming wife.

She sighed, rolled her eyes up to the heavens for strength, and said, "I'm not sure, but it wasn't anything you are taking," she said, and sighed again and it may be my imagination, but it sounded like she may have combined an "oh, for God's sake," into her sigh.

She seemed certain that it was not any medicine prescribed to me, but I was not so sure, so I thought about it quite a bit, and thought it was better safe, that sorry.

So I called my doctor this morning, and told him a little story, that I had never told anyone.

"This is going to hurt a little."

"Hey, Doc, how ya' doing?  I was thinking you should know about something."  I began, "when I was younger, I worked construction, and we were pretty macho guys.  One night, a Friday night, we all went drinking, and skipped dinner, and got a little wild.  It was pretty late, and you know how young, macho guys get after a night of heavy drinking."

This was a little embarrassing so the words started rushing out, and overwhelming my poor Doctor.

"That's right, Doc, we were a little too drunk, feeling crazy, and things got a little out of control and we decided to perform root canal procedures on each other."  Oh man, it was such a relief to finally get that out in the open.  "I thought you should know, because of any medicine I might be taking, or you might be thinking of prescribing for me."

I heard a sigh, and then he said, "I am going to have to raise your co-pay."

*Thank You, Jerry Garcia, you will always be on my iPhone.