Open Wide, Please!

OPEN WIDE, PLEASE!

It seems my tongue gets familiar with the teeth in my mouth every day. It’s a habit I acquired ever since I broke off the side of a molar when I accidentally bit down on a walnut shell. The dentist filed it down and placed a cap over the wounded tooth. I was really happy with the outcome. I guess I’m always looking for broken teeth or missing fillings these days. I’m amazed that I still have all the teeth in my mouth. I’m even more amazed that my yearly x-rays at the dentist’s office indicate no cavities and other problems other than receding gums and the threat of periodontal disease. My teeth and gums are sensitive at times, but I understand that is the norm given my age and genetic structure.


Nobody likes going to the dentist, and I’ll admit I stayed away too long. It’s never too late to get back on track to maintain a healthy mouth through good oral hygiene and proper dental care.


It was 57 years ago, and I was all of sixteen when I went to the dentist for the very first time. Usually, I washed my teeth only once a day. I didn’t know anything about flossing, and apparently my teeth were sound up until my teens, or so I thought. I didn’t indulge in sweets often, because it was considered a luxury. The only time I ate candy was on special occasions and Easter. Desserts were very rare, and reserved for special occasions. . Chewing gum was a favorite pass time for me, though. I used to love to blow bubbles. At times, I would blow a bubble so big that when it burst, I had gum splattered all over my nose and mouth.


Then one day, I felt severe pain in one of my molars. I waited a couple of days before telling my mom assuming that the pain would go away. She noticed how I winced when I ate or drank anything cold or hot. That’s when she made an appointment for me to see a dentist. That one trip to fill a cavity in my mouth wound up being very expensive for my mother. The dentist reported that I had several cavities in my molars and needed root canal work on both sides of the upper teeth. He scheduled me for weekly visits, and I paid the bill off in installments. The repair to my teeth covered many months, and I was so relieved when all the work was finally completed. My mom handed me $1.00 or more each week to give to the dentist. No one was more relieved than my mom when that bill was finally paid up.


I realize now that I probably didn’t need to have all those teeth filled. Other than the pain from the one tooth, the other teeth in my mouth felt fine. Certainly, I should have questioned or declined having any teeth filled that was not causing me any problems.


I never had a cavity since, thanks to the fluoride in our water, and improved oral hygiene habits, but I no longer enjoyed chewing gum. The gum would stick to the silver or chrome fillings in my teeth. I was really annoyed with pulling pieces of gum from my teeth. I quit chewing gum on account of it, and never had the desire to go back to that habit.


Before that first visit to the dentist, my mom looked after my teeth with sympathy and love, especially as a child when I was about to lose my baby teeth. It was so comforting when she held me in her arms as I cried that my little tooth was hurting and moving about in my mouth. Actually, the tooth was just hanging there. Mom would gently dry my tears and soothe my fears while patting my face. With swift fingers, the tooth would magically appear in her hands, and there would be excitement in her voice as she exclaimed,

“Here you are, darling. Don’t worry. Another tooth will grow there soon. Now just place it under your pillow tonight, and the fairy Godmother will leave you something in the morning.”

I would usually find a coin or a few pennies under my pillow the next morning. It got so that I was eager for the next tooth to loosen.


I can recall my father presiding over a tooth pulling ceremony involving one of my brothers. He would gather us all together to witness his connecting a line of thin cotton yarn or thread to a doorknob, and tying the other end to the loosened tooth in my brother’s mouth. My dad would ask my brother to stand outside the door, close it, and then knock on it. With glee on his countenance, my dad would quickly open the door, and the tooth would tumble out. I never actually watched the event, because at the last moments, I would become quite squeamish and close my eyes.


After my official romp in the dentist’s chair ended at sixteen, I stayed away from dentists for another 25 years or so. It wasn’t that I was neglecting my teeth; I just put my family first before my own needs. I finally went back to the dentist when the old root canals started to disintegrate, first one and then the other after those 25-30 years, respectfully. The dentist built permanent bridges using the neighboring teeth to anchor the replacements. I was certainly unhappy when he shaved the good teeth down on either side of the pulled teeth to accommodate the bridges, but the results were very satisfactory.


I had the upper left side done first about 10 years before the second bridge was made. The advancements made in bridge making were fantastic. The first bridge of three molars next to my eyetooth, had gold on the biting edge, and also had gold at the top edge, which was hidden by the gum line. The coloring of the first bridge had darkened over the years. If I were younger, maybe I would consider having the first bridge done over. But other than the discoloring, I’ve had no problems with the first bridge. When work was completed on the second bridge on the right side, no one could notice that I had a permanent bridge there. The teeth looked so natural that even I had to trace my fingers on my teeth to see where the bridge started and ended.


I realized not going back for yearly checkups in my younger years was a big mistake. I had developed deep pockets in some of my back molars from accumulated plague and had the beginning of periodontal disease. In a way, returning to the dentist because of the breakup of my root canals really saved my teeth.


I can recall the trauma and the pain of those needles of Novocain over the years, mostly when I had periodontal treatments and had my wisdom teeth pulled. I had periodontal scaling done just last year, and I can still picture the dentist injecting me with the antiseptic. He leaned over with practically one knee braced against my thigh for support as he stuck that needle in and actually shook and twisted it to get every drop of the serum into my gums. I thought he was going through bone. That hurt! He gave two injections each on both sides of the upper quad rums. The worse was over once the Novocain took effect, and the actual scaling was tolerable. I dreaded the second appointment to have the lower teeth done, but for some unknown reason, or some divine intervention, I tolerated the procedure, and the second time around wasn’t all that awful.


Now, I go for cleanings, faithfully, every four months to keep my teeth in shape. I wasn’t able to floss my teeth that often, because of arthritis flare-ups in my fingers, but with the new tiny brush cylinders flossing, I find it’s much easier. I rinse everyday with Listerine Antiseptic. I’ll try my best to keep my teeth healthy. I still have one wisdom tooth left, too. At my last checkup, the hygienist mentioned that my teeth and gums were in fairly good shape for my age. I hope to keep them that way. It’s nice to smile back at everyone and show no missing teeth.