On reaching dental senility
I have reached a certain dental age, the point at which every visit to the dentist seems to elicit some bad news. Even something as innocuous as a tooth-cleaning—which I had the other day—sparks a pronouncement that more work is needed, and the job always seems good for that dental minimum, the thousand dollar bill.
This time the offender was an old filling, a relic of my wild pre-flouride youth and a typical amount of candy. I emerged from adolescence sporting a set of choppers liberally sprinkled with gleaming metal, but now the last vestiges of those original fillings are going quickly, to be replaced by a set of expensive crowns and something called onlays.
Why? Subject to the forces of toothgrinding and just normal eating for all these years, their integrity further undermined by those massive fillings, many of my molars have decided to crack under the pressure. Literally. Cracks hurt; they drive you to the dentist, and the grief the fissures have given you makes you willing to pay any price to get it over with and stop hurting.
But this latest drama was not a crack, it was the erosion of an old filling that led to some sort of pre-infection state and the need for a redo. By this time, so many of my teeth have been fixed and re-fixed that the whole thing is looking mighty spiffy, virtually the only part of me that has grown more attractive with age.
At my dentist’s office, there’s now a full-time person there whose entire job appears to be discussing your bill and how you “wish” to pay for it. I don’t have dental insurance, but from what I hear, insurance pays only a pittance (if that) for most procedures anyway. I was joking with this lady that, by the time I depart this earth, my teeth will have finally reached near-perfection. She assured me that, in the case of teeth, it’s a good deal—you can take it (or rather, them) with you.
“…the whole thing is looking mighty spiffy…”
Oh yeah? How do we know if you won’t lose the apple?
My problem with going to the dentist (other than the bother of having to visit my bank for a loan for the services 🙂 ) is that I have a bit of claustrophobia that causes me to get a little panicy when I can’t swallow or my mouth gets too dry. Reasonable pain I can handle but not the loss of control involved with having someone’s hands in my mouth for what seems to be AGES.
Sitting for a long time on a plane before takeoff is starting to bother me too. If I ever got on a plane that sat on the tarmac for hours, they’d either have to let me off or they’d soon find a hole torn in the side of the plane.
“…virtually the only part of me that has grown more attractive with age.”
From a man of a certain age, neo, this is evident nonsense–some of us look beyond the apple.
Only the youth are enamored by the trappings of youth. The wise look for soul.
I’ve read enough to see the evidence that your soul has improved over all the 29 years you’ve worked on it. The other things are mere proud wounds from good service.
Well you could have them all pulled. 😉
Get rid of the apple and let us judge.
If i didn’t know better i’d swear you guys are just a bunch of flirts. But Neo knows the situation dictates we love her for her mind. Now get rid of that damn apple 🙂
I have often wanted to ask my dentist the question, “Did you ever worry that fluoride was going to put you out of business?”
Yes, getting beautiful teeth is one of the benefits of aging, along with getting an improved soul.
Take a look at photos of people from the 19th century, and try to figure out how old they are. A lot of women look like old crones, even though they’re probably in their 40s.
We get an extra 30 or 40 years of pleasant (if not gorgeous) looks, thanks to modern dentistry.
I switched dentists recently. My prior was a decent technician, nice enough, but in an inconvenient location. He cycled to work and forced his patients to listen to NPR. Aggh. Not classical music, but often something called World Cafe. There seems to be a genre called World Music, with lyrics in dialects and odd-sounding instruments. Hard for me to like or even comprehend. I inferred that liberals must be great polyglots.
Wouldn’t let me out without paying by cash or check.
I was involved in a serious auto accident when I was 17 that required a cap or crown on a lower molar (whatever it’s called when the whole tooth is covered by shiny metal).
Anyway, after college I moved out of state and eventually found a new dentist for a routine cleaning. The dental hygienist told me, very matter of factly, that I was going to have problems with that tooth within 25 or 30 years. I guess I was 23 or 24 when she told me that.
Here I sit at age 49. Starting about two months ago, I sporadically began to feel some minor pain with the tooth she warned me about. It wasn’t debilitating, but annoying, and it always subsided. Then last week I was chewing a steak and suddenly the tooth really loosened up. Now there’s no pain at all. I’m guessing the pain was associated with the nerves finally dying out (maybe somebody with a hard science, biology or dental background knows). Whatever it was, I feel no pain now but it’s become apparent that I’m going to lose the tooth.
I’ve been marveling at how prescient that young dental hygienist in Connecticut was about 25 years ago, and cussing the dentist who did the original work after the auto accident.
On reaching dental senility
Ditto.
Neo, you have my sympathy. Last week I went in for a routine cleaning/check up and found out I needed 2 filling replaced. Aging teeth, aging knees, aging eyes, aging everything is much better than the alternative which is the lack of aging. 😉
Ah yes, a certain age of medical and dental maturity. Eventually (like me) you reach the point where your visits are frequent enough that you can call your doctor and dentist by their first names.
SteveH, flirts?
You bet!. If you ever stop, check your pulse–you’re dead.
My dentist plays Christian music. It always makes me feel he’ll do the right thing and not rip me off. So far, so good.
Indeed. My dentist belongs to the same union.
Problem is I keep imagining having the “Dreaded Problem” on a Friday night and having to wait for Monday morning, or even worse on a trip.
Be grateful for your teeth if you still got ’em.
My father’s family had good teeth (grandmother still had her own teeth at 95); my mother’s family had lousy teeth (grandfather and uncle lost ’em all at a young age). Lucky me, I take after my mother.
I still have 28 teeth (all but the wisdom teeth), but nearly all have multiple fillings; three have gold crowns, which still seems silly for a guy in his early forties in the 21st century. (It makes me feel like a pirate.)
I pray that my sons inherit their mother’s good teeth. In the meantime, I see the dentist a lot. At least she’s pretty.
(And you’re right about dental insurance, Neo. Mine — Delta Dental — is supposed to be one of the best in the business. My deductibles can still run over a thousand dollars per year. It really would be cheaper to live on juice and applesauce, wouldn’t it?)
Of Annakin Skywalker and Neo’s teeth: “….more machine now than man.”
This piece cheered me up in a wierd so of a way. I’m 55 and this past year have had to have root canals and crowns as my old fillings gave out. As Neo writes, decades of clenching and grinding (not to mention eating!) catches up with a person. And, yes, dental insurance is worthless. If you need anythingn done at all beyond routine care, you hit our max in a heartbeat and before you know it, you’re paying for the whole enchilada out of pocket. I wish I could feel like all the dental work has made me look better, but with gold crowns on the back molars (for strength) I feel like I’m starting to look really tacky! It’s all very depressing, really. But glad to know I’m not alone in having my teeth giving way one after another…
Oh lordy, you hit on the one thing I most wish I could change about myself. Never mind being thinner, not needing to color my hair, or any other physical change. I wish I never had to have another dental procedure.
I might as well wish to be 40 lbs. thinner and 20 years younger, that’s as likely.
All y’all should be grateful you’re not dealing with what my friend Shelly has. She’s just 62, but the bone in her jaws started to erode,, loosening all the teeth until some just came out as she ate. Not from being rotten, mind you! but from being rooted in soft bone.
She’s fought like a tigress to keep what she can, swears she’ll jump off the bridge if she has to get dentures, but she’s lost half of them already, and the bridges in her mouth are a bit dodgy. She has to watch what she eats.
She can’t even get dental implants: there’s nothing solid enough to anchor them to. So, think of Shelly the next time you’re in the dentist’s chair.
I have my mother’s “soft teeth,” but thanks to the flouride supplies, mine are much better than hers were. When she married Dad at age 21, her father said to him, “You’re not marrying a girl, you’re marrying a dental bill.” Already! I still have all of mine, post-orthodontia and sans wisdom teeth, and still have a lot of my original fillings (pinhole cavities). Fortunately that dentist was a jeweler.
But I have one sensitive spot on my right rear molar, and I’m suspecting I’ll have to get a crown at last. Made it to 55 without one~
Get the restoration and be glad you’ve got a full set. The real enemy from now on is gum disease, so floss, baby, floss.
I broke a tooth because of a bad filling. There wasn’t any pain with the root canal, but as someone mentioned above, sitting for a long time with your mouth open wide is the perfect setting for bringing on a panic attack. I kept having to sit up and gag, with stints and other stuff in my mouth. I’m sure the dentist was broadcasting his aggravation with eye rolling at his assistant. I think next time I’ll ask for a little laughing gas.
I’m the one who said I don’t like sitting for a long time with my mouth open. Putting on the mask for laughing gas makes my claustrophobia even worse.
For lengthy procedures, I now ask to be sedated. Many dentists offer that service. Expensive, but worth it in my case.
Ah, you bear the badge of the true writer: nocturnal tooth-grinding.
At 57, I have all my teeth, replete with repaired fillings and crowns. And in 3 of the 4 quadrants, I recently had gum reduction surgery to give a new healthy gum line.
So in my attempt at total dental care, I now do the following (in the hopes of keeping my teeth and keeping future major work at bay):
– 4 cleanings/year
– Twice daily, morning and night, I do the following – brush thoroughly, use a little ‘Christmas tree’ brush for between my teeth where the gums have been lowered, floss, and toothpick my whole gum line.
I’ve always taken decent care of my teeth, but the ravages of age and poor genes have taken their toll. That ‘decent care’ is no longer enough. Hence, the new regimen.
I can relate, Neo and am sorry for the financial costs to you. But I agree with LAG, in that, those who are wise, look to the soul.
lilsis
PS
I grew up hearing, “Be true to your teeth or they’ll be false to you!”
Our former dentist was an amateur thespian who appeared in all the local plays and musicals and had a genuinely fine singing voice. He kept an oldies radio station playing in his office and sang along the whole time he was working on my teeth. It is both entertaining and reassuring to let a well-sung version of “Don’t Be Cruel” or “Heard it Through the Grapevine” or “Love Me Tender” drown out the whine of the drill during a dental treatment.
Then he retired and was replaced by a meticulous, serious, sloooooooow practitioner who works in stone-faced silence. She’s kind enough, and I believe she’s probably a better dentist — her techniques are certainly more up-to-date. But she works so slowly, with no pauses to let me breathe or swallow, that I’m discovering that I, too, get claustrophobic and panicky during these long procedures. It might make me feel better if she would try singing a little, but she would never dream of anything so unprofessional. Does anybody know of any other musical dental practices?
Mrs Whatsit:
Other musical dental practices? Are you kidding? That’s a gimme:
She assured me that, in the case of teeth, it’s a good deal–you can take it (or rather, them) with you.
Shoulda bitten her.