A Matter of Prospective

My  7-year old granddaughter is really excited about losing her teeth. She looks very cute with a gap in her smile. See what I mean?

Grandma is also losing teeth but she is not happy about it. In fact I get on the pity pot about my teeth more often than any other crap I have to deal with. I inherited weak teeth. When I was 7-years old I already had a mouthful of fillings. Yes, in my baby teeth. Not a good start.

The family dentist tried fluoride treatments to help ward off cavities. I don’t know how they do them now, but back in the 60’s you sat in the dentist chair wearing rubber troughs over your teeth, while liquid fluoride circulated through them and soaked into your teeth. The things were uncomfortable and they smelled bad. I must have swallowed gallons of fluoride over time. That can’t be good for you.

The fluoride didn’t change anything except my parent’s budget.

Over time my rotting molars were drilled out and filled with nickel and silver. Then those got old and brittle and started cracking what little real tooth was left. Then came the crowns. Don’t  forget the 4  root-canals and 2 implants under some of those crowns.

I thought once every molar had a crown my troubles would be over. Silly me.

Now my crowns are getting old and popping off at the most inconvenient times. In April of last year I bit into my bean burrito, and found a rock. With one of my implants. I was not happy. You can read the long saga about that by clicking here.

I suspect I have been crowned more than all the Queens and Kings of England in the last 2 centuries.  My dentist should bow when I show up at his office. Don’t you think?