Dentally Disturbed

So I went to the dentist today. Aside from the light - you know the one they have on the arm? - that detached and fell on my face, I had a disturbing visit to my dental health care professional. More than usual anyways.

There's a bit of history coming up, so get comfy.

Let's go back to Moby's grade school days. See him with his short-sighted squint (Dad insisted I didn't need glasses), his picked-last-for-sports figure and coordination. His hand-me-downs from his uncle. Ah what a picture. I told ya to get comfy.

Now my grade school participated in a program where young student dentists could practice their new-found skills on the (unsuspecting) little kiddies. My guess is that since they would be working on baby teeth, any mistakes etc would have no long term effects. They would get practical experience and kids would get free dental work. That suited my Dad just fine. Free dental care for three growing boys? Why not?

Well let me tell ya why not.

Some of the dentists-to-be (most, okay all the ones I went to) decided that if the teeth are going to fall out anyways, might as well make the best of it. Every kid in my class had each and every molar filled. Almost every kid wound up with the cheapest, ugliest set of periodontal work that these wannabes could stuff in their pre-pubescent mouths. And let me tell you, these guys were not gentle. Tales of broken teeth, punctured cheeks (mine, left side) insufficient or just plain not administered Novocaine (l'il Bro G). Every kid in my school absolutely dreaded visits to the dentist. My brothers and myself actually managed to avoid the wire-cage look, but my Dad kept giving us shit for not brushing and flossing (which we did with much rigor in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable and excruciating).

Now fast forward a bit to high school. See Moby with the gangling limbs, the coke-bottle lenses set in the cheapest rims imaginable (my Dad finally relented after my teacher had a long, long talk with him) and the hand-me-downs from his uncle. This high-school also participated in the program. However this time, it wasn't milk-teeth, it was the permanent ones they were working on. In my first visit I received two "fillings" which were completely unnecessary: they just drilled holes to fill them in.

Fortunately for me, the program was discontinued in my second year. Unfortunately for me, my Dad was pissed: there was no way he was going to pay for seeing a dentist twice a year. So for the next three years, it was me and my toothbrush against the universe.

Now fast forward a bit to my (first) term at University. See Moby with the shoulder length, thick, wavy chestnut hair, his groovy glasses, his uncle's hand-me-downs (which were actually tres chic retro at the time). He can't afford to go to the dentist, but he brushes and flosses every day. His one visit was for a cleaning: there was a girl he was trying to impress. He received a clean bill of health (aside from the nicotine stains).

Now fast forward (sorry) again to six years ago. It's been fourteen years since Moby has seen a dentist. His teeth are not in good shape. For the past decade and a half, he could barely afford food, let alone dentistry. He has a molar that has split, exposing the nerve. He has wisdom teeth that ache constantly. But now, now he has dental coverage and he takes advantage of it. His girlfriend at the time recommends her dentist and can get me in with a recommendation. Moby books an appointment.

I think I really grossed the dental assistant out. I know I gave the dentist an orgasm.

Years of plaque were removed with monthly visits. The broken tooth was ground down and a temporary crown put in place. Four wisdom teeth were yanked bodily out and the final cap put in. Even though coverage paid for half of the work, the bill was indeed quite hefty. But worth it: I was no longer in pain, my teeth were white(r) and I could chew on both sides of my mouth.

Then something odd happened. I began to grind my teeth. I mean grind. So much so that I would wake up in the morning and my jaw would feel like I had been chewing stale bubble-gum all night.

Over the course of the next couple of years, my (new) dental hygienist and the dentist told me my gums were receding. This was true, I could see where the roots of a couple of my molars were exposed. The dentist said I needed to get a special "appliance" that would prevent me from grinding my teeth. He would keep saying that until today, where he added that if it continues (i.e. without the $1500 piece of plastic) I would need to get painful surgery. I still said no, using the excuse that at the moment I could not afford it.

I went home and did some research.

While indeed grinding of the teeth can cause the recession, it's only a contributing factor. Other include: using a harsh toothpaste (like the whitening one I use) brushing too hard with a hard toothbrush (which I realized I do) and age. It happens.

Maybe I get it from my old man. But honestly ,when someone who is essentially a health care professional immediately recommends the $1500 solution without mentioning any of the alternatives or possibilities, well the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I went to the drug store after work and picked up three things: a less harsh toothpaste (which cost about double what I get now), a sonic toothbrush (about $150) and an "appliance" which, after following the instructions to mold it to my bite, cost $1470 less than my dentist's "solution".

I am really hoping the above works for no other reason than to go into the dentist's office in six months, show him the recede-less gum line and tell him to, well, I'm trying to think of something witty here, and I have six months to do so.

Maybe I'll just bite him.