California dentist discovers that fondling patient's breasts, relieves the pain of TMJ.
No it's not a joke, TMJ is real! It's a condition in the muscles of the lower jaw limiting eating, speaking, and swallowing. It's usually very painful. And as far as the Dentist goes, yeah, he's real too, and TMJ is the reason he groped the girls in his chair. At least that's what he told the judge.
Thank God there's a dentist who knows how to ease his patients through their problems. A guy like this offers a new meaning to the term "dental tool," but that doesn't make me any happier to see it.
Apparently one TMJ sufferer filed charges against him. Probably coincidental, but it was a woman, so maybe I shouldn't bring that up. She says he caressed her breasts, he says he eased her jaw muscle tension. His lawyer is saying anything he can to make this palatable to a judge and jury of non-fondling peers. With a story that hard to swallow, he better hope the judge doesn't have TMJ. This judge is male; most of us guys don't like strange men grabbing our chest any more than the women. We're still a little testy over the whole "Turn your head and cough" scenario (no pun intended). No, the lawyer is going to have to work hard on this one. Right now he's working a plan to allow his client to keep his license while the court feels around this whole, massaging/fondling thing. Tomato Tomato I say. Well, that's a much more impressive cliché when you say it aloud.
So, the lawyer's plan is to structure an arrangement where there are always 2 assistants in the office with the dentist while he's with a patient. They'll do the massaging from now on. Freeing up Dr. Touchy's hands for real dental work. What a drag.
Speaking of drag, maybe that would cure him. No, not hogtied behind a 4x4. Just, you know, A guy in drag. Nothing like a little surprise every now and then to keep us honest.
I'm just amazed at the audacity. Fondling breasts equals TMJ relief? Go ahead and try to use that line at your local hook-up bar. Pick ten women, start massaging their chest while explaining that you're trying to relieve their TMJ symptoms. Go ahead, I won't ruin the surprise, try it. I will recommend you bring some pliers though. A stiletto heel is hard to remove from a skull with your bare hands. (If you’re a girl, you can't play. Women, If you touch a guy—any guy--like that, we're just gonna follow you home no questions asked. Fish in a barrel, ladies. You'll contaminate the study.)
I laugh, but I did consider this dentist seriously. I mean, what If it was MyUnwife in the chair? I tell you what. I don't care what our problems are, I'd be down there explaining to the good doctor that that those aren't her teeth, and they are not to be touched. That's probably after she'd slammed his head into the spit bowl though. Whatever, I'd still feel heroic. I still care.
It doesn't even matter that I had a dream about her last night. Yeah, I did, it was strange. We were living in my uncle's old room at my grandmother's house. MyUnwife was still moving out, and she'd stacked all her things at one side of the room. As a gesture of kindness she'd washed all my pants, except she'd bleached one leg of each pair. Some kindness, all my pants had one dark leg and one light leg. She did it on purpose. I ran into the room looking for retaliation, looking for something to break. My dream me hadn't heard about this friendly divorce thing. In the dream I wanted to be even, but when it came down to it, I never did break anything. I wanted to, really bad, but I let it go.
You know what? Even if she bleached my front lawn to read "Robby is a mamma's boy," I still don't think I could let Dr. Fondles practice his work on her.
It's weird. If she told me that she were dating somebody else, I'd probably feel a tinge of pain, but I'd be ok. On the other hand, if some guy takes advantage of her, I'm out for blood. I'm not a violent guy, really, but you don't do that, even to MyUnwife. It doesn't matter that we haven't spoken in a month.
She'll never be MyWife again, but she still holds a special place. It's like hostages held in a room together for untold hours. We're like that but only we were shackled together and made to run a seven year three legged race. She was bound to me, and what ever she does with her future, there will always be a was. That will never change. Don't tell her that though. I have an aloof image to uphold. I'm stoic-chic. I can't tell her things that make me appear to care, or appear to be weak. I am a rock.
I just heard ten minutes ago that my grandfather has terminal cancer in his back and lungs. I may be there to help MyUnwife with a hands-on dentist, but I'm not going to tell her about this. It's not her problem, I think she met him twice.
I guess they're giving him a back brace so he can roll over. Roll over? Where's the dr. with miracle hands now? Why is it that we can only heal others when it brings us pleasure? Kind of convenient don't you think?
I need to call my step-mom as soon as I can get all the details from Dad. Thank God my dad is right there for her. I need to find out what I can do. I may not be able to ease the burden of TMJ, but I can look at myself in the mirror in the morning.
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