How many teeth do you really need??

The day started quietly enough.   I went to work, knowing I had to leave about nine thirty for a dental cleaning appointment….which I did.   That’s when everything went wrong.

Walking into the dental office I was greeted by a young lady who checked all my information and had me sit down to wait.  (Yes…I am Diana Coon….no my information hasn’t changed….ID?, sure…..yes, these are my teeth)

Eventually whisked off for x-rays, I exchanged pleasantries with the chirpy dental assistant who admired my necklace and listened as I explained its origin.   Then off to the chair.

After putting on my nice paper bib she summoned another gal to help with “numbers”.   I vaguely remember this from earlier visits.   Dental hygienist, “two, two, three, four, two, two,”   Person behind my head, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes”.

Poking, prodding, gouging…..and then, “Oh, dear,” from the hygienist.  “I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but you’re a five,” she said.  The girl behind my head “hummed” her agreement.

So….the girl behind my head must be the” judge”?  Like most women I’d always aspired to be a 10, but fell far short of that.   But really…at my age and advanced stage of decay being a five isn’t an insult.   I’d have said a four a few years ago, but five?    I’ll take five………..

I was snapped back to reality as my x-rays flashed on the TV screen that has taken the place of the little swirly sink in today’s modern dental office.  Looking at the skeletal picture, dialogue from television forensic shows played in my brain.  The chirpy hygienist pointed out a spot on the skeleton’s teeth, explaining it was infection that needed to be treated immediately.   To wait might mean loose teeth, or lost teeth, or some of this other horrible stuff in the glossy flier (featuring the teeth of the cast of Deliverance)  she stuck under my nose.   Ugh!! 

“What do we do about this, I asked?”

“Oh I hate to tell you this…..but I need to use my deep digging hydro sonic water thingy.  (cha-ching!)  Then I put antibiotic in there, (cha-ching)  and you get a super duper, industrial strength tooth paste and rotating brush that you use fourteen times a day,” I think she said.

“Crap,” you know that was me.

So, as luck would have it, her next appointment had cancelled and she had plenty of time to use her deep digging hydro sonic water thingy on me.  Seems my luck had changed.  (That is a deeply sarcastic remark, in case you misinterpreted it)

The deep digging hydro sonic water thingy is only used after painting your gums with some icky stuff that makes you numb and drooley.  I’m not trying to bore you with all these dental terms, but that’s what it is.  It also shoots a stream of water that the chirpy hygienist assured me would be taken away by the sucking hose she hung in the corner of my drooping mouth.   She obviously has not had the deep digging hydro sonic water thingy treatment, because I nearly drowned.

The whole procedure was not painful, or if it was it was masked by the icky stuff that makes you numb.  It is, however, the dental equivalent of water boarding.  Three times I got choked and had to stop, sit up, and fight to regain my breath.   They must not teach you the artful interpretation of gurgling noises in today’s dental school.   If they would only take the doggoned TV screen away and put the swirly sink back some of this could be eliminated!  Eventually I signaled and grunted to the chirpy hygienist that I would like the TV to be turned off.  Personally, I find annoying to have aggressive people with six pack abs trying to sell me an electronic belly stimulator when I am fighting for my life.

Eventually it was over, and the chirpy hygienist proceeded to show me how to floss, brush, turn on the new toothbrush, turn off the new toothbrush, mix the swishy stuff,  floss with the new dental floss, and a few other things that didn’t register either.

Did I forget to mention that this “uh-oh” pocket of infection is attacking a tooth that supports a bridge in my mouth that cost only slightly less than the Brooklyn Bridge to replace?   I thought so.    That’s something to look forward to, now isn’t it?   But first we must get this infection cleared up before it attacks my heart, my mind and other parts of my anatomy that are too personal to write about here.

And so, today dawned with my freshly lacerated gums aching, and me bumbling around, trying to remember what she told me about how to turn this on, off and what the speeds mean.   I now know firsthand that high speed will put tooth paste on the bathroom ceiling if you don’t shove it into your mouth before you hit the green button.   Live and learn……or read the instruction booklet.

Fixing that pocket of infection that was pointed out to me on the little TV screen, and replacing the bridge that has to be redone to accomplish the final work?……about four thousand dollars.    Having teeth that are mine….priceless.

And now to all my friends:   The canisters will be going out next week to area retailers.   Please give generously when you see the big white cans with my picture on them.   I appreciate your help…..Life Is Good