The Northerner's view of Dentistry

Local anesthesia is a marvelous thing.

After biting into the FCC's supper last night, I realized that one of my teeth had turned into an iceberg (90% unseen), and a painful one at that! Thankfully, the Great Canadian Mukluk Trading Post has a 24-hour dental clinic on the third floor.

So. On with the snowsuit (complete with my favorite mitts, complete with idiot strings), out the door of my lonely log cabin, across to the penthouse, and down the elevator to Doc Caine's office.

Doc was putting the finishing touches to the scrimshaw he was working on ("I have to do something with all these roots I'm left with"), when I came through the door.

Into the chair, a swab of something to numb the gums, something to numb the rest of my mouth, and a few minutes later, there it was...gone!

To show my gratitude, I let Doc keep the root. He said that he has something special planned for it. Apparently, he needed just one more piece of scrimshaw to complete the miniture nativity scene he was working on. Apparently, southern visitors believe him when he tells them that he uses teeth scavenged from carcasses found along the beach.

On my return to the lonely log cabin, I considered Doc's skill as both an artist and dentist, whether to tell FCC that more work is required on the new biscuit recipe, and was amazed how even drool freezes at -40!



Later, mushers!