No Dentist on Board

Grin and bear it.

This isn't the first first time that I've broken a tooth. In fact, my front teeth have been through a lot from contact sports and a full contact life. My dentist and friend, Chad Owens, has had to work on this same incisor more than once. But, I didn't realize that I'd need him here at sea. I'm long ways from any medical staff, but I did find out that this vessel has a medical room, complete with gurney and equipment for emergencies. Apparently, my "emergency" is not one that their prepared for; in fact, the captain said that this is a first that anyone had ever asked him for a Dremel to do some dental work.

Medical room on board

I could make up a cool story about how a narwhal got too close or even that a wave swelled as I was carrying samples above deck. But, no. I was simply doing what I do best: eating. As I bit into the French baguette, I felt and heard the snap. I ran to the bathroom to see the damage.

I didn't panic. I just needed to get it glued back in ASAP, so I cleaned up the recovered tooth and the cavity. Super glue should do it, I thought. So, I scraped with my knife and dried it to prepare for setting. A few drops of glue on the post and in she goes. It worked! Temporarily.

Pirates of the Pacific

Next meal, it breaks again. I'm back following the same procedure, but this time it won't sit correctly at all. After short work with my knife, (quick aside: Don't ever try this, especially on a rocking boat. Stupid, but made sense at the time.) I thought if I only had a rotating multitool like my dentist...
It seemed logical to me to at least ask, so I went to the bridge and just smiled at the Captain. He gasped. Then, we headed to the "hospital" to see what toys could fix it.

Before getting to the medical room, I did get a Dremel from the Res Tech and tried just using the grinding bit without the motor. It tasted like motor oil even after dipping it in alcohol. I really thought that it was going to work. After unsuccessful efforts, I tried various other instruments, such as forceps with varying degrees of stupidity, all while Captain Wes Hill grimaces, chuckles and makes jokes all while making sure that I don't cause a bigger problem or emergency.

Not mouthwash!

I rinsed with isopropyl alcohol, you know, for sanitary reasons; this is another act high on the Richter scale of stupidity and one I will never do again. All of this for naught. Nothing worked, and I'm a month at sea without one-half of my front upper bite.


I asked the Captain for an eye patch while in the infirmary. He looked confused until I grinned and said, Arrrrgh, matey!

Yes. I'm from the South; but I really didn't want to perpetuate any stereotypes while working with my new Pacific friends. However, it's just part of the adventure, and I can assure that everyone will remember the toothless teacher from Tennessee.

If you haven't already, check out my shipmate's blog, Denis Costello, fellow teacher-at-sea. His blog includes other perspectives of the same excursion. I will be focusing on the science and shiplife in the future. This mishap is part of the whole science at sea experience: really important, serious science research mixed with fun and laughter. I'm just beginning to grasp the magnitude of this research, and as I understand it more, I'm compelled to share it with all that will listen. I'm taking notes daily and putting it altogether for you, the reader. Please share with others so that we can reach a broad audience.