Dental work gives me the shakes. I get nervous. I don’t run and hide, but I think about it. I’d just as soon have a major medical procedure as to sit in a reclined position with 16 fingers and four sharp, metal instruments poking around inside my mouth.

It’s not that I don’t care about oral hygiene. It’s not that I don’t want to take care of my teeth. When I eat corn, I like for the cob to look clean instead of like I missed a spot. I’d rather not have a hockey player’s smile.

I just don’t like the idea of going.

I blame John Wayne for this. The Duke, himself. He rode into Rio Lobo in search of the two traitors that helped the Confederates steal the Union gold he was protecting during the war. The town sheriff was none too friendly.

“What business you got here?” he asked.

“Bum tooth.” Wayne said.

He sauntered across the street to the Docs office. No one could then or has ever since sauntered like John Wayne.

He confessed to the Doc that he didn’t need any dental work. The Doc told him he had better get in the chair anyway because the sheriff was watching.

What happened next has stayed with me for the last 50 years. The Doc got up in the chair with Wayne. He put his knee on his chest, held his mouth open with one hand, and proceeded to poke and pull with great vigor. Wayne squirmed, kicked, screamed.

“You might want to yell louder,” the Doc says. “Most of my patients say this really hurts.”

For forty-five years of my adult life, I never went to the dentist. I had my reasons.

Old age and bum teeth have forced me to deal with my aversion to the practice of dental warfare. I have had my gum lines scrapped with Brillo pads. I have had a DeWalt, 20V cordless drill shoved into my mouth. The inside of my oral cavity has had suction hoses and fire hoses turned loose inside.

The torture is relentless. Pointy things, loud things, scraping things. Grinding things, zapping things, pricking things. Things that whir, and things that grab. Things that poke, and things that smoke. Literally. The smell of a burning tooth is real my friends.

But I am a tough old bird. I have accepted my dental fate. After nearly two years of regular visits to the war zone, I have overcome my fears.

However, my routine was interrupted last May. I had a cleaning appointment that conflicted with my travel plans. I did what any retired traveling guy would do. I canceled the dentist appointment. My intention was to reschedule it when I got back from our trip.

I didn’t do that. Not that week. Not the next month. And I still have not rescheduled it. Six months without a dental cleaning. I’ve waited so long now that my old fears are starting to come back to me.

The little voices inside my head are saying, “This is gonna hurt.” “You’re gonna pay for this.” “They’re gonna have to dig at your teeth because you’ve waited so long.” “It’s gonna be like starting over.”

At this point, you need a little background. From the very start, the dental hygienist told me that I needed to use a water pik.

“It’ll help keep your gums in good shape. It can get to those hard-to-reach spaces between your teeth.”

She is a very nice lady whom I have disappointed every time I have taken a seat in her chair. She will ask me how I like the water pik. I am forced to tell her that I have not yet purchased one. For almost two years I have put off her advice.

Back to the present. My six-month hiatus from the dental chair has finally brought me to my knees on the water pik. I figure that the hygienist is gonna fuss at me for not rescheduling sooner. I figure she’s gonna have something stern to say about the condition of my teeth.

So, last week, I got on Amazon and ordered my very first water pik. It arrived yesterday.

First. I did not read the instructions. It looked easy enough. The water goes here. The nozzle of death goes here. The button that turns it on is the one that says “ON/OFF.” This is so simple a child could use it.

I’m standing at my bathroom sink for the trial run. My new pik is a rechargeable unit. Before putting water in the little tank, I turn it on to see if it’s charged and ready. It hums and has a slight vibration to it. I’m good to go.

I fill the tank. I select a nozzle and insert it into the top port.

I’m wondering how stiff of a stream this thing shoots before I stick it in my mouth. It has three settings. And so, I try one with it pointed toward the sink. I choose the setting I like.

Now, for the real deal.

One of many things that I did not properly understand is that when you hit the “ON” button, this thing is ready to go to work at that specific nano-second. There is no lag time. There is no slow start.

I had the pik sorta aimed at my mouth and not in my mouth when I hit the button. I think I was thinking I would turn it on and then press another button when I wanted it to shoot water. But that’s not how it works. ON means on.

The first blast almost put out my left eye. A water pik shoots like a bee sting. Quick and hard. There should be a warning on the outside of the box.

“Wear Safety Glasses When Pik Is In Use!”

The start up jolted me so much that I spun to get out of the way of the stream, trying to protect my eye. Mind you, turning out of the way does not turn off the water pik. Water shot across the wall, up the cabinet, and covered the mirror before I remembered to turn it off.

I thought to myself, “I’m gonna have to get in the shower to use this thing.”

Which is exactly what I did.

I glanced over the instructions to make sure I wasn’t a complete idiot. I used warm water this time. And I got in the shower. That part is not in the instructions, but it should be.

I got into my best braced position. Yet, the jolt hit me so hard that I forgot to leave it in my mouth. I also forgot to turn it off again as I jerked it away from my face.

This resulted in water patterns on the ceiling above the shower. It also made me laugh so hard that I ended up lying on the floor of the shower.

I’m calling the dentist today. I’m not saying I’m giving up on the water pik.

It’s just obvious that I need professional help.