Thursday, June 01, 2006

Dental issues

The dentist's office called me and said he (the dentist) wanted to talk to me. Dire news! What could a dentist have to say that would need a special appointment just to talk? I felt like a young Bertie Wooster being called into the headmaster's office for six of the best.

Some background: I used to faithfully get my teeth cleaned every 3 months in Dr M's office (hi Lori!) for 25 years. Dr M purchased a nice van with a television set in the back for his son courtesy of our family.

By the time I retired, Dr M had done something or other to all or most of my teeth and many of my gums. Every tooth bore the mark of Dr M. So I canceled my dental insurance. What else could happen?

Ha! My last visit to Dr M, he started looking gravely in my mouth and muttering ominously. Then he called in a colleague and they both Viewed with Concern. Ominous predictions were hurled about. Bone Loss was mentioned. Plus I needed about 11 root canals.

I left New Jersey and Dr M precipitously. Then I cravenly avoided any dentist until a toothache led me to Dr L, the chape who called me in for a talk.

I have a friend who leaves the room when I mention dentists or even toothbrushes, so I will spare you the details. The good news: I get to keep my gums.

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