Frances and I visited a new dentist yesterday.
Our beloved local dentist stopped taking our insurance plan and I am not one to risk being uncovered (for me or the kids) because if something could happen, then it almost certainly will happen the precise second your insurance ends. So Frances and I tested the waters with a recommended practice yesterday while George was happily “napping” with Grandma.
This was the first time I had pulled Frances out of Kindergarten during regular school hours and we were both outwardly excited—Frances because she was missing school (and still being good) and me for getting to spend the afternoon with the absolute sweetest five-year-old on the planet. To this day, it still takes my breath away when my daughter holds my hand. I hope she never gets too old for that.
To no one’s surprise, Frances’s check-up was a cinch. She’s been blessed with good teeth and a pleasing nature—a dentist’s dream.
My check-up, on the other hand, was long and wearying. As I’ve known since childhood, two of my baby teeth never had permanent teeth waiting in the wings to emerge. I’ve lost one of those baby teeth and have a hole in my mouth (thankfully well in the back so you would never know…I hope), and the other baby tooth has managed to stay put all of these thirty-six years. Unfortunately, time is ticking for that last baby tooth—it is understandably tired and worn down (not being built to last more than five years tops). So my new dentist, who I am liking less and less at this moment (kidding, of course), wants to pull the holdout tooth and put implants into what will soon be the two holes in my mouth.
This is what this evil man wants to do to me. Twice.
Sadly, after talking with the dentist and doing my own research, I think he’s exactly right. The last thing I want is for my teeth to move around to fill the holes or for my jaw to start deteriorating (two very possible scenarios). And provided you have regular dentist check-ups, the implanted teeth can last a lifetime. So, I’m doing something I never thought I’d ever do—I’m getting two implants.
Don't worry, I've curtailed my expectations--I know these kind of implants won't transform me into a rare beauty or help me get a leg up in attaining my lifelong dream of becoming a serious Hollywood actress. Let’s just hope I am as good a patient as Frances.
Happy Wednesday, everyone!