Dr. Teeth

I have spent years of my life living in different states across this Nation. And while I think nothing of it to get a new primary care doctor when I move and establish care, I have always kept my same dentist back in Salt Lake. Why not? You only see them 2x a year and quite frankly, that's pretty easy to schedule in when you routinely go home to see family. My husband has the same mind frame I do, although we keep different dentists. "Routinely" has turned into "annually" in the past couple of years which sucks.

I've only had 2 dentists in my life. The first was Dr. Simonsen who talked about being a big helper and "mister toothy" and inevitably you got a prize at the end of the visit. I went to him (as well as my pediatrician) until I graduated college and was forced out of the practice. It made sense as I hung off of the exam chair that was made for pint sized people.

I tried one adult dentist who was on my plan when I paid out of pocket for insurance and was horrified that they, a) actually scraped my teeth, and b) never offered me fluoride to rinse with at the end. Horrified. To the point that I didn't consider him to be a real dentist. I wrote letters to both the dentist and the insurance plan about the sub par care I received. Dr. Simonsen never did either of those! Little did I know, that was adult dentistry.

So, I joined the rest of my maternal and paternal grandparents, parents, and other relatives into the practice of Dr. Sorbonne. It was comforting to have such a geeky guy with a squeaky clean image peering into my mouth. My hygienist was usually pregnant regardless of when you saw her and had a brood at home. She was happy, giggly, and could talk non-stop. This took the edge off of her ruthless flossing.

Typically our moms call the dentists the minute our plane tickets are booked for a trip home in hopes of a cancellation. I was fortunate enough to see my dentist last November when I took Edgar home before flying to Australia. When Ginny died around the 4th of July this year, I wasn't so lucky. However, I did see "The Jerry" and haven't cut or highlighted my hair since. Pathetic, I know. At any rate, J's dentist has been known to do special appointments like the morning of Christmas Eve just for J if that is the only time schedules will allow. However, last year nothing worked and as a result he hasn't seen a dentist in (gasp) 2 years. All of this gets compounded by my stupid back. I still can't sit so although J's vacation is in a few short weeks in the middle of December, the reality of me sitting on an airplane for 5 hours is impossible.

Believe it or not, we had foresight before all of this and in fact, J started asking his colleagues and mentors about dentists in the area about the time we moved here. One came highly recommended and he called. The wait time was 3 1/2 months out. I'm not kidding. But, he scheduled and finally I did too. After favorable reviews from my husband I was looking forward to going. How I was going to sit in that damn chair was beyond me, but I certainly knew that in this town rescheduling is NOT an option.

Luckily for me, the staff were considerate of the fact and I spent most of my 2+ hour reclining. I was escorted back through the busy office, offered a magazine, and the purple bib was clipped around my neck. Things seem really normal. Typical family photos line the wall so I can tell he has 2 daughters and 2 grand kids. Well, in walks my new dentist. Imagine Patrick Dempsey with salt and pepper wavy hair, looking appropriately messy, and it is quite obvious in his scrubs that he works out. Of course, he has a killer smile. He introduces himself to me.

"Ok, lets get this party started!" He says sitting down on the rolling stool and immediately turns on Jimi Hendrix. I'm not kidding.

The guy is doing things that I have never had a dentist do before like take measurements of my teeth, my bite, and my gum line. I finally ask what he's doing.

"Well, I'm pretty anal I guess, so I do this with every patient. But lets say you are in a car accident, God forbid. I can completely reconstruct your teeth to where they were. For example I know that your overbite is exactly 3 millimeters over your bottom teeth. Your mid line is perfect, and your gums are 2 to 3 millimeters, which is awesome. Any more than that and we know there's a problem." By now Jimi is over and on pops the Grateful Dead. "Bet you never had a dentist who liked to rock out to Hendrix while you were in the chair."

I couldn't answer him as he now was holding my tongue with gauze and examining the floor of my mouth. Again, a first for me. The guy even palpated my salivary glands and examined my jaw movement.

"Guess I'm just stuck in the 60's." I have to say it was a lot better than listening to the elevator music I was used to in dentists offices or the inappropriate Christmas station blaring in the waiting room. Its not even Thanksgiving yet, people! Come on!

He even gave me the name of his back surgeon in the area and spent a considerable time talking to me about his own back adventures. Turns out he also had the L5/S1 mess and hasn't had a problem since the surgery in '84. He also talked about how he loves dentistry, but hates being late which he apparently is due to how he's crammed back to back with patients. The guy was personable. Someone you'd like to go have a beer with.

The rest of the visit went according to plan. The hygienist cleaned and polished my teeth. She flossed (gently) and gave me a toothbrush. I even got molds for a new night guard so I don't keep mashing and grinding away my little to no enamel I have left on my molars. (J thinks is oh so sexy with my night guard, by the way. Ha ha.) I shattered 3 of them in my life. While I was sleeping and they were in my mouth. Not kidding. Its gotten better with me not working though.

Besides the psychedelic rock, the rippling hair, and the minuscule measurements of my teeth, the only other thing that struck me was the sticker shock of my bite guard. I remember my parents talking to me about how expensive orthodontics were, but holy cow. Maybe its just the town I live in or perhaps I've been in the dark ages for so long, but I wasn't expecting it to cost the same amount of a pedigree Scottie puppy with papers and genetic testing. Not kidding. Thank God they do payment plans.

At least I didn't get a parking ticket on a two hour meter when I only had enough change for one hour and I was there closer to three. That was a major bonus.