I am finally coming out of the closest, the dental closet. There are so many judgments associated with dental care and heaven knows I have been a finger pointer myself. Assumptions are made that poor dental hygiene is associated with lack of pride, intelligence, or money.
For a long time as in many decades, I have been a staunch flosser and brusher. With two dental insurances, I visited my dentist every three months for cleaning. I should have been Godfather to her three kids. I put at least two of them through private schools until they went to college. If I had not left California, there would have been contributions to that also.
When I was a kid, I used to drink milk by the udder load. People used to joke that I would never have bone or teeth problems, because I was calcium saturated. People with osteoporosis wanted to lick me. Knock on wood, I never had a broken bone.
When I was a kid, I used to drink milk by the udder load. People used to joke that I would never have bone or teeth problems, because I was calcium saturated. People with osteoporosis wanted to lick me. Knock on wood, I never had a broken bone.
All of that calcium, all of the thousands of dollars handed over to dentists, all of the landfill I have contributed to with worn out toothbrushes manual and electric in addition to miles of dental floss, cannot stop heredity. After looking at the full mouth scan, the surgeon asked about family oral history. What a sad tale that was to tell. He confirmed the nightmare that plagued me for years. My genes are not designer labels. Regardless of how I treated my teeth and gums, they have generations of dysfunctional fall out. Flossing be damned, they want to leave me. After trying regular floss, mint flavored, cinnamon coated, nothing I did apparently made them happy. They still are insistent on leaving. I am having the ultimate abandonment issues.
The wisdom teeth have been long gone. Common thought was that when they became infected whip those puppies out of there, no loss. But now, all of my top teeth are tottering on the brink of disaster. This could lead to Prozac or therapy or both.
After spending hours at the dental surgeon's office, where two dentists patrolled my mouth like a vice squad looking for terrorists, the options were presented to me. Choice one - do this or pay the same for a Rolls Royce. Choice two - as affordable as a Mercedes Benz. Choice three - wear a surgical mask all of the time and tell people you have really bad allergies so your mouth is never visible to the public.
The good news is that with healing times, the whole process will take a little over a year to complete. Hence, the payments are spread out of that time also. Wipe the sweat from my brow. I thought I was going to have to sell my body to pay for this, in which case, I could afford that surgical mask.
Never being comfortable with discussing dental care in public, all of my dental concerns were neatly boxed, wrapped tightly and stored in the dark, back recesses of the closet. Now it time to rip that closet door open to come to grips with those finger pointing at me. So, if we cannot get to Nice or any other place nice, well what can I say other than bite me.
Now if you will excuse me, I am going to Google the contact info for the Tooth Fairy. Hopefully, Julie Andrews is not too busy for me.
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