But I'm a Mouth Breather!

I can’t remember the first time I went to the dentist, but I presume my mother took me as soon as I cut my first tooth. Every six months she carted my younger brother and me to Dr. Jim’s office in the Red Bird area of Dallas. I never dreaded going to the dentist. I went so often and from such an early age I never had time to develop a cavity or experience the wrath of a drill and Novocain shots. I always left the dentist with some sparkling jewel encrusted ring I had pillaged from the treasure chest, a perfect bill of health, and, of course, a new toothbrush.

I actually enjoyed going to see Margie, Dr. Jim’s Asian dental hygienist, and of course, Dr. Jim. I am not kidding when I say that Margie was the only Asian woman I came in contact with until I was in high school. She did not have much of an accent so I was caught off guard the first time I went to a nail salon. I liked her because she always let me pick the flavor of the gritty polish she used to buff my teeth shiny and smooth. She was brutal with the flossing though.

Dr. Jim Williams was my grandfather’s age. My mother worked in his office as a dental assistant at some point before I was born. What I remember most (probably because I got a very close look as he probed my teeth for decay) were his wiry, gray, unkempt eyebrows. As a child I was quite fascinated by them. I had never seen anything like them. Dr. Jim had fought on the beaches of Normandy and I always marveled at the photo on the wall of him and his fellow soldiers on a commemorative visit to Normandy, France. France did not appear as glamorous as it was made out to be.

Dr. Jim was the only person who managed to convince my brother to stop sucking his thumb. Will was like Linus from Charlie Brown. He carried a blanket he had named “Bobbie” and sucked his thumb constantly. My parents had tried everything to get him to stop from painting his thumb with bitter tasting liquids to explaining that he would be made fun of in school. I remember sitting in the lobby of Dr. Jim’s office with my mother, wondering why Dr. Jim wanted to talk to Will alone in his office, a little jealous that I had never been invited to sit in his actual office. What Dr. Jim told Will is still a mystery, but that night Will came home and slept on his hands and quit sucking his thumb cold. turkey. He couldn’t have been older than five.

I went to a pedodontist before I was out of elementary school to get a cross bite corrected, and by the time I was in junior high, I was in braces. These braces were only for cosmetic purposes. I didn’t have any major gaps or renegade teeth protruding from my gums ,so I could have very well gone without braces. There’s no telling how much money my parents had invested in my mouth by the time I turned eighteen.

Right before I left for college, my mom scheduled my last cleaning. Imagine my horror when I learned that Dr. Jim had retired and Margie had transferred to a dentist’s office that was out of our insurance network! My last dentist appointment was in a strange dentist’s office. I drove there alone. The cow of a dental assistant (whose credentials I question) scolded me for not brushing my gums well enough and proceeded to demonstrate and made me practice proper brushing in front of her! What a hag! I protested her insult, explaining to her, in vain, that I was a mouth breather which made my gums sensitive and prone to bleeding and inflammation…duh…Margie knew that! Couldn’t she see that I had perfect teeth and that I didn’t have a single filling or stain?

The humiliation did not stop there. The unfamiliar dentist, whose name I cannot recall, further insulted me by telling me that I had “super man” over-developed jaw muscles and that I should get the mole on my cheek checked out, proceeded to take out a ruler and measure, and repeated that I should definitely go to a dermatologist. I was so disgusted at that point that I didn’t bother to tell him that I had been to the dermatologist for moles and he did not want to remove the one on my cheek it because it would leave a scar. There was also mention of my wisdom teeth needing to come out.

I did not see another dentist until today. Approximately 8.5 years later, I finally went to the dentist.

I put it off for so long for a number of reasons: high insurance premiums, hectic schedule, fear of an unfamiliar dentist wanting to pry out my incoming wisdom teeth (which I may need someday!). Joe’s dental insurance is fantastic, so I went. I couldn’t put it off any longer. My guilty conscience would not allow it.

You can imagine the worst case scenarios playing out in my mind. Sarah, who has dreams her teeth are falling out, who has major anxiety in sterile atmospheres, who spent 8.5 years violating the ritual of bi-annual teeth cleanings…yes, I was, for the first time in my life, afraid of going to the dentist…just for a cleaning and exam. I popped a tranquilizer and headed to the office expecting the worst.

Yes, my gums bled, but the hygienist seemed to understand when I explained that I breathe through my mouth when I sleep. She reassured me, saying that it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. This time I was marveling at digital x-rays and water jet cleaning devices. It had been a long time… The dentist only found one tiny cavity…my first. It may even be so minor that I can get by without a shot of Novocain. When informed that I still had my wisdom teeth, he asked how old I was and said since I kept them clean, I could keep them. Hooray! I immediately made my next appointment and then called my mom to thank her for good genes and great dental care growing up.