Jesus is my dentist. He comes highly recommended. Upon arriving here in Puerto Escondito, I needed his help.
“I don’t like doing extractions. I really don’t. But that wisdom tooth has got to come out.” Jesus was earnest, and I had no grounds to argue. I asked if I could run across the street for a last meal before surgery. “Claro!” (”Of course!”) was his answer.
I went to a comedor by the town market and had fried shrimp with rice and tortillas with a big glass of papaya juice. It was divine. I thought I’d be on blender food for a week, and I savoured every mouthful.
There was some yanking. There was some sectioning. I put my trust in Jesus, who wielded his plyers with dexterity and grace.
After it was all over, he gave me my tooth to carry home in a little plastic case in the shape of a mouse. I’m now miles down the road to recovery in the fast lane with the top down. The bonus is that I have to take at least two days off the bike because of the surgery. After our 17-day power haul from Barra de Navidad, that’s medical advice I’m more than happy to take.
In other news… who can guess what I’m doing with this pail of soapy water? The winner gets a prize! Write your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this post.