Yesterday, I went to the periodontist, and opened up the door to enter into dental hell. It's something I have been putting off for about two years. I have begun to develop gum disease. Sounds icky, I know, but bet I bet a lot of people have it and don't even realize it. I'm not certain what really causes it, but part of it is probably due to plaque buildup and, possibly to not taking as good care of my teeth as I should. However, as a dental child, (my father is/was one,) I do know what I should be doing and do it, so I'm not entirely sure why I have been blessed with this. Part of it may be hereditary or possibly even just due to age, I suppose. 

I also have a mouth that is too small for my teeth, really. Despite having had orthodontia when I was a kid, my teeth are now shifting again, and one of my front teeth is being forced sideways and up and out of my lower gum. Not only is there periodontal peril, it also just looks bad and makes me very conscious of my mouth. I don't like to smile and recently talking to people makes me feel embarrassed. I worry that they are staring at my tooth and wondering why I don't get it fixed. Consequently, it makes me look like a grouchy, or maybe a scary old lady who never smiles.

Since my father was a dentist, and he was always as kind as possible when dealing with my childhood dental problems, I mostly do not fear the regular dentist. In fact, I rather look forward to having my teeth cleaned. Feels kind of like scratching an itch, and when it is done, they feel and look great--well they used to, before all of this.

The only real dental horror I ever really had to endure was having all of my wisdom teeth pulled at once when I was about 18--a surprise concocted by that same nice dentist father, but not done by him. He thought it would be easier to get it all over with at once. How considerate of him. As a result of that experience now when talk or thoughts of tooth removal arise, I get really panicky.

But, I bit the bullet and made the appointment, especially since my Dad had given me some money for my birthday almost two months ago, which would help to pay for it. I wouldn't have asked for such a birthday gift--but as a self employed artist, I have no dental insurance and it ain't cheap to go to the dentist these days, you know.

About an hour before I was to leave, I developed a horrible headache and a queasy stomach. I took some Tylenol. Then my scalp started hurting, and I swear the roots of my hair felt like they were standing on end in pain. I massaged them. My stomach started to feel kind of queasy. I wondered, should I cancel my appointment? Could I really be getting sick? I ate some yogurt to calm my stomach.

We drove downtown and lucked out and found a cheap parking meter behind the Art Institute. Students--you can always tell art students by their arty-farty appearance-- and others were sitting outside enjoying the beautiful sunny day. It made me long for the days spent working on my BAFA, and being immersed in the art thing and the importance and meaning of it all. While I didn't go to the Art Institute, I spent a lot of time there. I really wanted play hooky altogether, skip the dentist, and just go in and enjoy cruising around the museum, and sculpture park.

No such luck as the tendency to being sensible, which I've noticed comes right along with aging, forced me to honor my appointment with dentistry.

I arrived early, allowing even more time to let that anxiety build! They put me in the reclining chair, which had a beautiful view out over sunny Lake Michigan.  As I lay there in a cold sweat, dizziness and nausea increasing by the minute, I realized that not only was I going to pay dearly for this, but I was also paying for the view. Might as well enjoy it. 

Finally, the dentist appeared. Ohmigod! He looked to be about the same age as my kids! He poked and prodded, but was pretty gentle which made me feel a little better, but I was still aware of the sweat on my back, as I tensed and stiffened, the closer he got to the rogue tooth.

The upshot --eighty dollars, please, just for the 10 minutes of poking around in my mouth and chat. I need to have deep scaling and root planing twice along with a course of antibiotics. The front tooth cannot be saved and there are several options, one of which is adult orthodontia, after extraction, to move all of the teeth over to fill in the gap. And of course it is expensive, just as I thought. I start next Monday. 

On the way back to the car, I started to feel much better. We passed one of the young art students carrying what looked to be his latest project. I saw my life flash before my eyes. As we walked on I started to laugh, and I said to my spouse what I would have liked to have said to the student.

"Listen to the voice of experience, and think it over carefully, kid. Someday you may need to buy some serious dental work, and that little concrete guy in the business suit laid out in the white coffin shaped box is really not going to do you much good. Trust me! I know!