Fraser learns a lesson about the tooth, the hole tooth and nothing but the tooth

PG for language

Holey avoidable

By Chris BJ

"Ow!" Fraser clutched at his jaw and dropped the spoonful of ice cream he'd been holding. Ray looked at him with concern.

"What is it Fraser?" The mountie's face was twisted up in pain.

"I ... I don't know. It just started when I put the icecream in my mouth."

"Sounds like a bad tooth. You seen a dentist lately?"

To Ray's surprise, Fraser looked guilty. "I, uh, ...". Ray snapped at him impatiently.

"Fraser, don't tell me you ain't got a dentist. When did you last go for a check-up?"

"Well, I, uh, that is, I used to have them checked by the RCMP in Canada, but since I've been down here..." He groaned again. Ray looked at him in disgust.

"You mean you ain't seen a dentist in three years? That is retarded, Fraser. You gotta get your teeth checked every year. I know my dentist gets on my case when I don't go in for six months."

Fraser knew he had no escape on this. The pain in his mouth was unrelenting. To tell the truth, he had never had to have much to do with dentists before now, apart from the semi-compulsory checks the RCMP imposed every year. He'd never had a filling, thanks to the rigid dietary ideals of his grandmother, and his wisdom teeth had come through with no trouble. He knew Ray was right, though, he had been careless.

"Let me fix you up with my dentist, she..."

"She?"

"Yeah, Frase, she. Women's liberation, ever heard of it? I hear they even let 'em practice a little medicine from time to time." Ray grinned to himself. His dentist was one tough broad, and boy, was she gonna read the riot act to the Mountie.

Ray made an appointment for the following morning, and dropped Fraser off for it, promising to collect him in an hour. Fraser looked curiously around the room. He had little experience of modern waiting rooms. The RCMP dentist was a travelling doctor who set up in the station houses as and when required. The white clad young woman behind the desk brightened up at his approach.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh, Yes. Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I have an appointment to see Miss Gallagher?"

"Oh, yes, there you are. Just have a seat, it won't be long. You can fill out this form while you wait". He took the form and completed his personal details, handing back to the woman, who smiled at him appreciately. This task complete, he sat down and let his eyes roam around the room. He could smell something, not unpleasant exactly, but odd. Disinfectant, he guessed. There was a woman holding a thumbsucking child, sitting opposite. The child regarded him with wide eyed curiosity, and he smiled at it in friendly fashion. The woman scowled at him, impervious to his charms. Fraser looked away from them, and picked up a magazine at random from the pile next to the chair. He realised he was holding a copy of Cosmopolitan, which screamed in inch high letters across a semi-naked woman's rather large breasts, "You've got him, Now what are you going to do with him?" He dropped it, and picked up another. Oh God, he thought, it gets worse. The National Enquirer. He put the ghastly thing back, and was about to try and find a copy of National Geographic, when the receptionist called out.

"Mr Fraser, she'll see you now."

Relieved, Fraser followed her direction into a small brightly lit room. The dentist was there, a tall middle aged woman, with stern features. "Mr Fraser?" He nodded. "Take a seat please". He positioned himself in the high tech chair, and jumped slightly when it rose and lay him back. "Just relax, Mr Fraser". She shone a bright light in his eyes, and for a split second of panic, he wondered if she was going to strap him into the chair. Control yourself, man, you are a mountie. "Open up, please." She stuck a mirror against his tongue, and poked at his teeth with a probe. She counted off the teeth to her nurse, and clicked her tongue.

"Well, you've got a cavity in the right mandibular M2, no doubt about that. How long is it since you saw a dentist?"

"Uh, three years..."

She nearly took his head off with her exclamation of annoyance. "Three years! That is totally and utterly irresponsible, Mr.."

"Uh, Constable..."

"Constable." she spat. "Do you realise that you could lose that tooth? And that this will be a completely avoidable consequence of complete dental negligence."

Fraser shrank back into the chair. She was still holding the probe, dangerously close to his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it. I'm going to have to X-ray your mouth. God knows what other damage you've done yourself. Nurse, take him next door." Fraser slunk out of the room, under the gaze of her glaring eyes.

The x-rays were brief, but unpleasant. He tried not to gag on the large film wedged in his mouth. He followed the nurse back into the consulting room. Miss Gallagher was already looking at the images.

"Well, constable, it's not a pretty sight. Like your sweeties, do you?"

Fraser was going to protest that of course he didn't eat sweets, then thought guilty about the snatched Smarties, the ice cream, donuts etc. She didn't need him to answer, she saw the guilt on his face. "Huh, I thought so. And do you brush regularly?

"Of course, first thing every morning." She rolled her eyes in disgust at this idiocy.

"Yes, I thought so. You are aware, I suppose, that first thing in the morning is just about the most useless time of all to clean them?' He shook his head, puzzled. She sighed. How stupid can a man be. "Constable, the point of brushing, after every meal, is to remove plaque, and prevent bacterial action. If you clean your teeth in the morning, you've let a whole day's worth of food sit in your mouth, and acid will be slowly eating away at your teeth. Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

"No. That is, she died when I was quite young."

She softened, just slightly, and conceded that perhaps she'd been a tiny bit rough. But dammit, the man had had lovely teeth, and here she was holding evidence that he had four separate holes. He had no fillings before, but he was going to pick up AM radio before he left today.

"Well, Constable, there's no easy way round this. You need four fillings, and the bad news is that they are in the four corners of your mouth. Normally I'd do this many in two visits, at least, but given your history of poor compliance, I'm going to do them all now. Do you object?"

"No, Ma'am," Fraser couldn't quite look at her. He knew he was beaten, and determined to take his medicine.

She nodded. "OK, first we'll numb up the sites, and while I'm waiting for the injections to take effect, I am going to clean your teeth." Injections? Fraser thought.

"Injections? Is ... I mean ... are they strictly necessary?" Needles, he thought. He hated needles. She looked at him sternly.

"There are two ways of doing this, Constable, the easy way and the hard way. I can tell you for nothing that I do not intend to fill your teeth while you struggle and scream. You're not afraid of..."

"Uh, no, of course not," he hastily lied.

"Good. You are a mountie, after all. And the best way to avoid needles is to avoid cavities. Now sit back, and open up wide."

She signalled the nurse who handed her what looked to Fraser to be a completely unnecessarily large steel hypodermic. Gallagher saw his eyes widen. "Just relax, Constable. I suggest you keep your eyes closed." He immediately squeezed them shut. That helped, but he wiggled a little as he felt the prick on his upper gum, and the slight ache of the fluid going in. He could taste the spilled anaesthetic. As Ray would say, Yuck, he thought. The dentist did the other side.

"Now, the mandibular injections are a bit more unpleasant. I have to put more anaesthetic in. You ready?"

He nodded, already feeling the upper injections starting to work. She was right, the mandibular ones were much worse, two on each side. He cursed himself for putting himself in this, ridiculous, situation. "I'm now going to clean your teeth." He felt her scrape at his teeth, occasionally seeming to be trying to pull one up by the roots. He couldn't help making a slight inarticulate protest.

"Calm down, it feels worse than it is. You know, the plaque build here is really bad. How's the numbing going? Can you feel this?" He shook his head.

"Good. Now I'm going to drill. Keep your eyes closed."

He felt her place something over his eyes. "Safety glasses". He relaxed. Maybe this wasn't so bad. He was immediately proved wrong when he suddenly heard an appalling whine right next to his ear. God, it was awful. Then he could feel the vibration on the tooth. The sensation went on and on. He wanted to scream for her to stop. The noise, the vibration. Suddenly, surcease. But what was this? Something hissing went inside his mouth, threatening to suck up his tongue. He tried to push it away with his tongue. "Don't, Constable. It's just suction". He wanted to swallow, but he still had all these cold metal things in his mouth. He'd rarely felt so helpless in his life. She added to the misery when she screwed a brace around the molar. He felt it cutting into his gum. The dentist asked the nurse for amalgam, and he then felt as if she was trying to push his tooth back down into the socket. More drilling, suction. He could taste the bits of amalgam in his mouth.

Finally, she announced "One done, three to go." He looked horrified. He felt wrung out. How was he going to endure three more of these things. "You can rinse now and spit". The nurse gave him a plastic cup of revoltingly pink liquid and indicated a bowl. He tried to follow the instruction, but found to his dismay that his mouth refused to obey him. A long piece of drool hung down his chin, and he blushed red with embarrassment. The nurse handed him a paper towel.

"Ready?" He nodded weakly. This time, he was better prepared, and the radio was playing an old Righteous Brother's song. He tried to lose himself in the music, trying to ignore the infernal whine of the drill. It took another twenty minutes before the dentist finally released him.

"OK, all done. Quite a marathon effort, don't you think." He just nodded. He didn't seem to be able to speak, and didn't trust his mouth not to betray him by dribbling all over the place. She handed him a pamphlet, and a new toothbrush.

"There. Don't eat for an hour. Read this, and use this. Three times a day, and *after* meals, OK? And I'll see you in six months. Every six months, without fail. You don't want to go through this again, do you?"

Fraser shook his head. This was worse than otters, any day of the week.

He went into Reception, where Ray was waiting for him. "How'd you go, big guy?" Fraser held up four fingers. Ray looked at him in astonishment. "Four? You had *four* cavities? Wow. Where?" Fraser indicated the positions. Ray was sympathetic. "You all numbed up" Fraser nodded. "Can't speak?" Fraser shook his head. Oh boy, this was gonna be good, Ray thought evilly. I'm gonna enjoy this while it lasts.

Ray drove the mountie down to the precinct, carefully missing as many traffic signs as he could manage. Fraser tried to protest "Ray", he tried to say, but it came out as a sort of a wail.

"What's that, Frase? You want me to go faster? OK?" and sped up, ignoring the mountie's obvious discomfort. Despite the recklessness of his behaviour, they did, to Fraser's immense relief, manage to get to the precinct without incident. Fraser thought he would speak to Ray about this later, but then thought it might be better to forget the matter. He somehow knew it had been a special effort. Inside the station, they met Franchesca. "Oh hi, Fraser, Ray? How things?", he greeted them as they sat at Ray's desk. Before Fraser could stop him, and god knows how he would have done that, Ray announced, "He's just been to the dentist. Poor guy, four fillings in one go," and Franchesca's mouth flew open.

"*Four?* Oh, Fraser honey, you poor thing, let me look," and as she pawed at his face, Fraser knew that some day, somehow, he was going to get Ray for this. He grabbed Franchesca's hands, and pulled them away. He tried to say "It's all right, Franchesca," but once again, his traitor mouth refused to obey, and something utterly incomprehensible came out. He stood up suddenly, redfaced with embarrassment. This really was intolerable. He decided he would return to the Consulate. Ray came after him. "Hey, Frase, wait up. Let me drive you." Fraser turned around and gave him the hardest glare he was capable of.

"Come on Frase, I was only yanking your chain. I'll take you back. OK?" Seeing that the younger man was genuinely contrite, Fraser nodded, and jamming his Stetson on his head, stalked outside.

Ray got him back to the Consulate with - for Ray - commendable restraint. He dropped Fraser off out front. "It'll wear off in about three hours. Take it easy, all right?" Fraser just nodded, and waved the car off. As he went to the Consulate door, his heart sank. Turnbull. He really didn't think he could face Turnbull, but he couldn't see any way of avoiding him. Indeed, the other mountie was coming into the entry hall just as Fraser came in. Fraser nodded stiffly at him. "Good Morning, Sir." Fraser nodded again and tried to get away from the other man. "Are you all right, Sir? You look a little peculiar." Fraser rolled his eyes. How could he explain this in as few words as possible? "Dentish" he said, pointing at his face.

"A dentist did this to you? That's awful. Did you report him?" Fraser couldn't stand this any more. He just shook his head at Turnbull, and moved away. He would apologise tomorrow to the other man.

Oh God. He saw the inspector coming towards him. He looked panicky but there really was no getting away from her.

"Good morning Constable. I understand you had a dental appointment this morning?" He nodded. Her eyes narrowed.

"Is there something wrong, Constable?"

"No, shir. I jusht had some fillings." He didn't think that sounded comprehensible, but she seemed to understand.

"How many?" He held up the requisite number of fingers.

"*Four* fillings? Your teeth were in sufficiently poor condition that you need *four* fillings? Constable, I think I should inform you that comes perilously close to dereliction of duty. You are obliged to maintain yourself in good order at all times."

Fraser nodded again, misery written clearly on his face. Thatcher relented slightly, the mountie was clearly suffering enough, even for her.

"On this occasion, I think the punishment has already fitted the crime. But I will expect to see that you take time off every six months for a check up, or I shall note your record regarding this." She looked at him expectantly.

"Undershtood."

"Good. In that case, I suggest you take the rest of the day off, and read this," indicating the dental hygiene leaflet he clutched in one hand.

"Turnbull, come with me. I'll need your assistance, since Constable Fraser is indisposed." They left Fraser in the hall. He sighed, and decided to go to his office to lie down. He couldn't even have coffee at the moment.

He read for a couple of hours, by which time he could definitely feel some sensation back in his face and lips. He got up and rinsed his mouth out more thoroughly than he'd been able to at the dentist's, watching the amalgam scraps fall into the sink. He winced at the memory of the pink liquid, and went to seek some lunch to erase the taste. He fixed some soup, and opening the freezer for some ice cubes, he saw the ice cream tub. He picked it up and dropped it in the trash. After lunch, he took the new tooth brush and carefully brushed his teeth in line with the instructions in the pamphlet, and then returned to his room to await the complete restoration of control of tongue, lips and jaw. As he felt the ache in his mouth from the remains of the injected material, he thought back over the morning's events with disgust. The worst thing of all, worse than Ray's driving, or his embarrassment at the Station house, or in front of Meg, was the sure and certain knowledge of one thing. It had all been, he knew, wholly avoidable.