The Advocate - May 2005 Index

Damn, Grad School Can Be Like Pulling Teeth
Will Weikart

Student #1: “Bring me the cow-horns…”
Student #2: “No, he doesn’t need the cow-horns…”
Student #3: “You got some long roots…”
Me: “Urr? Raa rrowwe….Owwwe!!!”

There I lay, semi-reclined, surrounded by a multi-ethnic, all-female cast of aspiring young dentistas. After some initial waf?ing, I opted, fairly hastily and pointedly, to have the defective lower right molar—2nd from back, tooth #31, I think—“extracted.”
Opted is actually not quite right. I could not afford a costly root canal, which would have saved the tooth, but would cost at least $750, and probably comparable, though protracted, “discomfort.” This figure is with the student dental plan, which does not cover “major operations” (like root canals).

Back that ass up. If you hadn’t guessed, I’m at the famed NYU Dental Clinic—a low-cost alternative to private dentists, provided by NYU and its dental students-in-training, with supervision from their highly experienced, pro-grade instructors (the students, I suppose, comprising the semi-analogous “adjuncts”—read: ?exi-labor—of their own field). THIS, excuse the bad pun, is decidedly where they “cut their teeth.” For those of us without basic health insurance (much less dental, eye, etc.), this is perhaps the only alternative, short of the old-school home-jobs calling for whiskey and a string tied from tooth to doorknob. Consequently, on any given day, the East Lower Manhattan lobby and surrounding complex of dental practices is a tense, bustling swarm of the I've boroughs’ dentally un-insured (read: average persons—but disproportionately, elderly, poor…contingent?).

I purchased the student plan, which costs $185 and provides coverage for one year (if you start it when the plan starts—beginning September, it ends every June). It includes extensive x-rays, diagnosis, unlimited teeth cleanings, unlimited fillings, and other basics. Major ops like root canals are 25% off. If you take full advantage of it, or need work done like me, it’s a comparatively great deal—that is, if you have the flexibility to spend long stretches of time waiting in the long lines, and the patience for instructors who approve/review their students’ work at every step of the way. Reduced fee for guinea pigs!

Rather than go on another payment plan and incur more debt, I chose to have this rotten, increasingly painful rogue tooth extracted rather than root-canalled. It only cost $98. Breakdown: extraction ($100) plus optional nitrous oxide, AKA laughing gas ($30)—total at 25% off. (This must be paid before services are provided—I used my debit card in a rather absurd, Kafka-esque moment of frosty exchange.)

All the friendly students and instructors I spoke to had recommended, with varying fervor, against the extraction and in favor of root canal. “You need to save the tooth.” “Thirty? You’re too young to lose teeth!” Nonsense, thought I. Lasting and fundamental change has to get to the “roots” of the problem…right? Anticipating my skepticism, one student assured me that “I have nothing to gain by recommending [the more expensive procedure]—I don’t get paid.” (Note to self: remember this example when attempting to explain structuralism to theory students.)

I don’t regret my decision, but the student who told me, “You won’t feel pain, just pressure,” was lying or, perhaps, just wrong. Even heavily anesthetized (from multiple injections around and then under the half-out tooth), and pleasantly high off the nitrous, I was feeling it, indeed. I never saw what the “cow-horns” instrument is because I was continuously wincing. The tooth was stubborn and I broke into a full-body sweat, let out uncharacteristic sounds as they pried and dug at the decaying nugget. Finally, with a life-affirming and (I assume) practically inaudible (but deafeningly loud, in my head), sound of tearing tissue, it was out. The perverse allure of staring at the partially blackened little pebble seated atop two bloody, pulpy legs was somewhat akin to the ambivalence you feel when looking in the toilet at a shit you just took, before abruptly pushing it away. I bade my friend farewell. After the strange but painless sensation of having that spot on my jaw bone fled down for non-abrasive, post-heal comfort, my mouth was then stuffed with gauze over my new hole/wound.

“What did it take, fifteen minutes?” one student joked as she filled out some papers. (In fact, this particular student, called up to do the deed in order to get her “extraction credit” (!), was too physically weak and/or became squeamish and surrendered the task to an/other more hearty/brawny student/s.)

“Yeah, right, just put that,” another replied sarcastically, laughing.

Later that same evening, Prurient and Wolf Eyes (live at Knitting Factory) would provide the uncanny ideal soundtrack, rounding out my Day of (minor, for now) Disfigurement. Alas, I have another tooth that is a borderline candidate for root canal/extraction… Let the good times roll!

Will Weikart is a student in the PhD program in Sociology, and newbie adjunct at both John Jay and Queens College.