GP Academy Letter 250918: My Teeth Tried To Kill Me

In the beginning God created Gordon, and Gordon was pretty stupid. Well, not stupid, just deeply uninformed.

Gordon’s dentist as a young man was his uncle, Sam. Yes, Samuel Fearing was both my uncle and a dentist in Southbridge, Massachusetts. And an excellent dentist was he.

I always had bleeding gums. I brushed and flossed every day and was told that bleeding gums are normal and that the solution was to have my teeth cleaned twice a year. So I went to Uncle Sam twice a year to have my teeth cleaned and I always had bleeding gums. *

[* I did not know that my blood sugar levels had always been slightly elevated due to a diet high in carbohydrates and that oral bacteria love slightly elevated blood sugar. Once corrected years later with a diet of mostly raw, unprocessed foods, I never again had bleeding gums.]

This dental treatment loop persisted until about the age of 40 by which time I had experienced a dozen fillings and four—count them, four—root canal treated teeth.

I was told by a top dentist in Boston who specialized in performing the root canal procedure (which I now call “denticide”) that these aching puppies would no longer bother me. She explained, somewhat superciliously as I recall, that with their blood supply and nerves severed, they would never again cause me any dental pain or discomfort.

They could remain happily in my head for the rest of my life, residing proudly in my mouth adjacent to their less enlightened neighbors. I was rather pleased with that and consented to the procedures. And life went on.

One day I woke up in August of 2024 at the age of 78 with difficulty breathing. It felt as if a giant was standing on my chest. Not a big giant, just big enough to get my attention. Feeling like you can’t breathe fully and completely is not fun as anyone who has ever experienced not being able to breathe fully and completely will readily agree.

My difficulty in breathing soon progressed to the point where I was tired just going about daily activities. I bought an oximeter which is this little electronic gadget that you stick your finger in to read your blood oxygen level.

Anything 96 or above is ideal. The Internet says that 95 is normal for senior citizens and I am a card-carrying senior citizen. But my O2 was reading 91 which is not just low, but very low. As you might understand, I was now deeply concerned since breathing is one of the activities I try to accomplish every day.

On New Year’s Day 2024 my O2 dropped to 88 and my daughter told me to call 911. Four of Manchester, New Hampshire’s finest paramedics and firefighters showed up and carried me down two flights of stairs like King Tut to a waiting ambulance, and then to the Emergency Room where they tested me for a virus.

No virus was found. They tested me for sepsis, which is a bacterial infection of your circulatory system. No sepsis was detected. They diagnosed me with bacterial pneumonia and kept me overnight—for two nights, actually—and discharged me with a prescription for a powerful antibiotic which I took for ten days until the pills ran out.

Remarkably, my breathing cleared up wonderfully. Within a month my O2 registered 95 again and on a good day I could hit 97. I was back in the pink.

Two months went by and, once again, my breathing gradually became difficult. I coughed up some sputum and sent it off to a lab that performs DNA testing of bacteria to see what you’ve got bugging you. The result showed that 50% of my bacteria was not aerobic which is the kind that gives you your everyday, run of the mill, pneumonia, but anaerobic.

I remembered having read “Curing The Incurable” by Dr. Thomas Levy who advocates for the use of high dosage Vitamin C—or ascorbic acid to be more scientifically correct—to thwart bacterial infections of all types and realized that it would probably be a good idea to increase my Vitamin C.

So I started taking two grams of liposomal Vitamin C daily since I didn’t want that giant standing on my chest again. But the giant was back, this time wearing heavy work boots. My O2 was now hovering below 90 and I returned to the ER where the nice doctors tested me and declared that, this time, I had bronchitis.

Again, they kept me overnight for two days while pumping me full of antibiotics and so much IV saline that I had to pee every 90 minutes which precluded any attempt to sleep. So I sat up all night and read Dr. Levy’s other book, “The Toxic Tooth” in which the good doctor explains how all root canal treated teeth—as in 100%—eventually become infected internally.

Allow me to repeat that. All root canal treated teeth eventually become infected internally. Got a root canal treated tooth? The bad news is that it will eventually become infected internally. Why? Because all root canal treated teeth eventually become infected internally.

Not infected externally, mind you. The dentist when performing the root canal procedure dutifully sterilizes the inside of your drilled-out tooth using ozone, then fills the tooth up with some mysterious substance, then caps it off and you’re good to go.

But here is where we must journey inside the tooth, where no dentist has gone before. It turns out that the interior of a tooth contains zillions of microtubules harboring bazillions of bacteria which, once the root canal procedure has been performed, no longer have access to the body’s blood supply.

Which means no access to the immune system, either. Over time, some of these aerobic bacteria mutate—this is called morphogenesis for you academic types—into anaerobic bacteria that can survive in the absence of oxygen.

These anaerobic bacteria gradually multiply into the bazilions while producing their own special waste products which are highly toxic to a degree equivalent to botulin!

I had received four root canal procedures resulting in four dead teeth that had been residing in my jaws for 40 years, slowly festering away and leaking micrograms of their nasty waste products into the tissue surrounding these cadavers.

In his book, Dr. Levy details all of the declining health processes that can be attributed to root canal treated teeth, among which are persistent infections. And, clearly, I had a persistent infection.

How could I have known? There was no discomfort from these silent assassins in over 40 years. But how could there be? They had been executed 40 years earlier by a dentist with a diploma from the American Dental Association.

Their blood supply had been cut off and their nerves had been severed. There was no inflammation in the gum tissue surrounding these corpses to provide any clue as to the festering love fest occurring deep inside them.

Gum inflammation is visible—the result of everyday periodontal bacteria, the kind we all brush away dutifully both morning and evening. I was being poisoned by their anaerobic country cousins from deep within the confines of my root canal treated choppers.

Needless to say, as I sat there at 3:00AM at the Catholic Medical Center in Manchester, New Hampshire, inhaling oxygen from a cannula and reading “The Toxic Tooth,” I was blown away. Now I knew where those anaerobic bacteria were coming from.

MY TEETH WERE TRYING TO KILL ME!

Enthusiastic in my newfound knowledge, I tried explaining this to the peppy, young medical doctor who visited me in my hospital room but failed completely when I saw him frown and take a step backwards.

Once again, I was discharged on yet another powerful course of antibiotic pills and within a couple of weeks my O2 was back up to 95. Again, I felt great and resolved to take full advantage of my newly recaptured energy.

This time, it was war. No more Mr. Nice Guy. The rules of engagement now called for escalation to Toothcon One. The giant would be slain. There was no other option.

I made an appointment with a “biological dentist” that I located using Al Gore’s Internet and had all four root canal teeth extracted. And a funny thing happened. This time my O2 levels did not sink again. They remained high and functional. Which is how I have always envisioned myself. High and functional!

And with this I leave you, Dear Ones. If you have root canal treated teeth sitting in your skull, trouble lurks. You owe it to yourself to read “The Toxic Tooth.” It will scare the living bejeezus out of you. You will be in denial. “Extraction? Really”? Yes, really. There is no other way.

But don’t try to explain this to your local drill-and-fill dental practitioner. You will be perceived as a kook. Like trying to explain vaccines to a pediatrician, that dog don’t hunt.

Just tell them you want those teeth removed. If they ask for an explanation, tell them you had a visitation and it’s a religious thing and they won’t dare trample your First Amendment rights for fear of a lawsuit.

They’ll have you sign a waiver just in case they screw anything up during the extraction process. Personally, I would advise locating a biological dentist since they all understand everything I have written above, while pretending to be normal dentists.

Speaking of pretending to be normal, I must now return to my high functioning daily activities. I wanted to give you something to chew on. I hope it was informative and useful.

BIG TAKEWAY: Don’t let your teeth kill you.