A couple of years ago, I went to the dentist. I don't go to the dentist very often, because I have no need for their services; all of my teeth are in excellent condition, presumably partly thanks to the evil fluoride conspiracy, and partly because of my enthusiasm for cleaning between them.
(I have now written more about my crackpot theory of dental care.)
This time, though, I suspected I had a supernumary wisdom tooth pushing up under one of my existing ones. That's a very uncommon complaint, but it was the only thing I could think of that explained the uncomfortable developments in my jaw. A small but definite bony protrusion was poking out of the inside edge of my left lower jaw.
It wasn't an extra tooth, though. There just seemed to be too much gum hanging on around one of my ordinary, non-supernumary wisdom teeth. This is a much more common problem, and easy to cure - numb it, carve away the excess, job done.
But my extra-tooth suspicion was partly triggered by the fact that there really was some surplus toothy stuff in there. A little shard of tooth, pushing out on my gum. It wasn't part of the wisdom tooth, it wasn't part of another tooth. The dentist and her assistant didn't know what the heck it was.
It's great when medical professionals peering into you through double eye-loupes say "Amazing!". I suggested they take it a bit further, and go for "Holy crap - what the hell is THAT?!", or indeed "Aaaa! The Antichrist! The Antichrist!".
But I digress.
My dentist's best guess was that the mystery object might have been a shard of a baby tooth that'd just sat peacefully in my jaw for twenty-something years, until my body decided to push it out, as bodies sometimes do. Many people's jaws are in state of continental drift, as it were, that doesn't tally at all with the subjective feeling of a bunch of very hard things set very firmly in place.
But the dentist cheerfully admitted that she was just guessing, never having even heard of such a thing before.
Maybe a year later, it happened again. Same spot, same funny little shard of tooth or bone or whatever poking up out of my gum. I knew what it was this time, so I just dug it out myself with a pair of tweezers. (Unfortunately, this was before I reviewed the ETime Home Endoscope, which would have allowed me to take fascinating pictures of the little shard in-situ.)
The shard was kind of woody-feeling, not rock hard like tooth enamel. So I suppose it might indeed have been bone, or perhaps dentin. I presume there's just a little glitchy bit of my jaw that decided to sprout a couple of these things. It's not unusual for a bit of normal tissue to occasionally grow in the wrong place, but it's only really noticeable when it has more dramatic results, like a dermoid cyst.
If I were inclined to believe in alien woo-woo or sorcery, though, I could easily have convinced myself that these strange objects were "implants", or voodoo thingummies, or some other phenomenon of great occult significance. After it happened the second time, there would have been no possible question - the Greys were clearly abducting me, shoving an implant into my jaw, wiping my memory and letting me go.
After the dentist thwarted their plan the first time, they just did it again! Clearly, it'd be time for me to find myself a "therapist" to hypnotise me into remembering the aliens putting the stuff in my mouth, not to mention all the times the witches/ghosts/aliens paralysed me as I lay in my bed, and of course that guy sacrificing giraffes to Satan in the tunnels under the day-care centre.
Back in consensus reality, if you look closely enough at the body of anyone who's been on the planet for at least a few decades, you'll very probably find some little bits of something stuck in 'em somewhere. My girlfriend's got a tiny grey tattoo in the middle of her chest, under which somewhere is the bit of pencil lead that caused it when she managed to stick herself with it as a child. Anybody who lives an active life probably has quite a few tiny scar-encapsulated bits of wood or stone under their skin. Someone who works in a machine shop will light up like a Christmas tree in a full-body scan; heck, some of them have tiny metal turnings in their eyes that they don't know about, until they encounter a very strong magnetic field.
Given this, there's a very good chance that anybody whose mind turns to thoughts of alien abduction will be able to find disturbingly personal "concrete evidence" of said phenomenon, if they look hard enough.