photo credit: Kevin Harber
I have always enjoyed going to the dentist. For me, it is like therapy, cleaning house and getting out for a lunch time appointment all at once. The hygienist always wants to know the latest happenings and my dentist is kind and gentle. Sometimes they give me a steamed cloth for my face, reminiscent of a spa treatment. The receptionist affectionately calls me “Fi”.
I have never had cavities. I never had braces (although I secretly coveted them in middle school). Save for a traumatic wisdom tooth extraction, I just liked going to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned.
Several years ago, although I received regular dental checkups, I didn’t have dental x-rays for 5 years due to medical reasons. So on that hot summer day, when I went for my regular appointment and x-rays, I was in for quite a shock.
The dentist looked at the x-rays, then again at my teeth, then again at the x-rays. He and the hygienist got to work with documenting the decay (that is what they call rotten teeth). My dentist quietly began calling out numbers to note the number of teeth and each surface that was affected. I stopped counting at 10, as the hygienist looked grimly at me. They told me I would need to make many appointments and we would be seeing each other frequently.
When I got to the receptionist’s desk, I was told that the next available appointment wasn’t for quite awhile. It was a long time to wait when my teeth were now similar to the surface of the moon. Swiss cheese. Pot holes. I weakly said, “But I have a big crater in my mouth and lots more cavities, too.” And then I started crying. Bawling, actually.
I sobbed to the receptionist, “You see I have really good teeth. Not movie star-good teeth, but dentist-good teeth. When I was at another practice, one dentist would ask the other dentist to come and look at my model teeth. My entire self-concept is shot you know…” She nodded appreciatively, while the office manager scurried to get tissues.
Then the hygienist came out front with an overflowing bouquet of toothbrushes, floss, and fluoride rinses—her attempt at a consolation prize. Meanwhile, the office manager had worked up a preliminary cost estimate, which she encouraged me to review at home. She also shared that they could work with me on payments for up to 5 years. This was meant to be reassuring, however, given that I typically leave the office with not even a co-pay and receive a free toothbrush to boot, just how much was this going to cost? Now I know – my mouth is a major financial investment. And the fillings aren’t even made of gold or silver.
I called the receptionist back the next day to apologize for my melt down and to see if there were any cancellations. As soon as I identified myself she said, “Oh, how ARE you?” as her voice almost became a whisper.
I got through all of the appointments, with the help of Nitrous Oxide, caring hygienists and of course, my favorite dentist. Not as much of a buzz as I would have liked, given the circumstances, but we made it work.
So, after such a stellar dental history, why did I get all these cavities? There are 2 theories – the constant acid reflux and nausea for an extended period of time during my pregnancies was one potential trigger – both are tough on the dentition. And then there was the diluted limeade during my first pregnancy that was pretty much the only thing I could drink without feeling nauseous. Sugar – bad. Acid – bad. Bad, bad, bad.
On my final “cavity management visit”, they gave me a treat from the treasure box. A necklace shaped like lips with purple sparkly lip-gloss in it. My kids want it; but I earned it and I am not giving up my treasure.
