NOT OC: TAKE CARE OF YOUR TEETH!

Whitman Mission

Kristen's graduation from Whitman college, 1986

I thought she looked beautiful in that dress.

For nearly 80 years people have been telling me to take better care of my teeth, and I have ignored them.  Probably since about age 4, when my mother stopped brushing my teeth and turned the job over to me, I have hurried through toothbrush time as quickly as possible.  Brush each tooth up-and-down?  Too much trouble, I mostly brush sideways.  Floss?  Forget it.  Check-ups every six months?  Only if somebody else made the appointment and then bullied me into keeping it.  Well, the chickens have come home to roost, to coin a phrase.  I am now paying the price.

A brief history:  At about age 12 I had my teeth straightened.  The braces were on for what seemed like many years (two, I think.)  There was a routine to follow to keep my teeth clean despite all that metal in my mouth.  Unless my mother nagged me I usually ignored it in favor of playing outside or getting to bed early.  The result: when the metal was finally removed I had 22 cavities, with a half-dozen or more yearly thereafter (until there was little tooth left to rot.)  When I went into the army all my left-upper molars were yanked by German dentists.  This shifted the chewing burden to other teeth, which – one by one – succumbed to the additional pressure.  The upshot is that I was finally down to seven teeth on my upper jaw, until this morning.  Now I have a full complement, and I hate it.

Yeah, I decided to get a removable plate.  (They call it a “flipper”; why, I don’t know.)  As I sit here writing my tongue never ceases to explore this alien thing in my mouth.  The coffee I am drinking tastes funny.  When I say the letter “s” it sounds like a snake’s mating call.  I am assured that it all will be better bye and bye, but they equivocate over how long “bye and bye” may be.  They also assure me that “not much taste” will be lost owing to the fact that there is a plastic coating covering much of the roof of my mouth.  What does it avail to acquire teeth able to chew a steak, if you can’t taste it?  My father had a full upper plate in his 50s and he managed, so – I guess – I will too. 

I should remark that I had two alternatives.  One was to do nothing and live off soup and mashed potatoes for the rest of my life.  The other was to get implants in strategic places: they estimated four would do.  Cost estimate: $30,000. `   

So, take care of your teeth.  You never know how much you need them until they’re gone.