Two men with CLL healed their CLL (which is incurable at this time) by getting metal amalgams out of their mouth. I went to see two dentists to discern how much this would cost me. When I was a kid I ate tons of candy and had lots of fillings. I thought the fee would be absurd.

My second dentist, actually a childhood friend from the neighborhood, noticed I had an amalgam tattoo. Apparently, a sliver of metal (mercury, nickel and all the other toxic components) slipped under the surface of my skin under my tongue, and was lodged on the floor of my mouth. He said he couldn’t cut it out and I needed an oral surgeon for this procedure. The Internet says there is nothing dangerous with amalgam tattoos, but if metal in teeth is dangerous, I have a sneaking suspicion having that stuff stuck in my skin is worse.

It took me months to get in to see the man who had removed not only my wisdom teeth, but also seven of my baby teeth because my jaw was too small. Some of my earliest memories in life are lying in a bed at the side of the hall in this man’s office. After every single extraction (three separate occasions) I woke up out of anesthesia throwing up blood all over myself. Back then I guess they didn’t have that vacuum suction tool that retrieved blood before it trickled down the throat and into the stomach.

This sliver of metal was small. How tough and tedious a procedure could this be? I figured a bit of Orajel (topical solution), a shot of Novacaine to numb the area, then a quick snip and I’d be done. The doctor told me they’d have to do this in their surgery suite, I’d have to be briefly out with an IV, it might possibly effect my saliva output from now on, and I had to sign on the dotted line for a biopsy.

I told the nurse I wouldn’t sign for the biopsy. The dentist said it’s mercury, nickel and other toxins. Biopsies like this, of which I’ve had a few, are a CYA of medical procedure that costs the patient a couple of Ben Franklins. The doctor came in again, this time with a very stern look on his face. He told me to shut up and sign.

“If you don’t like the terms, you can leave.”

I fumed for ten minutes. Then asked for a refund of the $600 (which had been a 50% discount because we are friends).

When I ripped my frenulum (linguae) with FOG before the turn of the century, I freaked out. I ran to my dentist and he laughed at me. “We can’t stitch that. It will heal by itself.”

Two hours later when I got home, I sterilized my fingernail scissors and hemostat, got my Orajel out of the drawer, hiked up a big flashlight and mirror so I could see what I was doing, and did the procedure myself. I thought it was going to be just one snip, but I had to snip twice. The hole was the size of the end of my little finger and it barely bled. Adrenaline is a pretty good numbing agent.

At the urgent care last night where I went for my monthly port flush a male nurse said he fixed his own abscess with a drink for courage and the tools of his trade. He said I did an excellent job and to gargle with Listerine or Hydrogen Peroxide.

This morning, much to my surprise, the hole I’d cut is practically non-existent and the sliver of metal on my desk is still a sliver of metal on my desk.