A Real Mouthful!

Radius toothbrush.
Unfortunately no one is paying my to tell you this.  

It was in my mouth.  It felt like a baby's hair brush, but with shorter bristles.   Brushing my teeth a couple of times is part of the less exciting Things I get to do today. And this really is a toothbrush.

Load this baby up with a bit of toothpaste and you can have a scrubbin' good time with froth, bubbles and toothpaste all over, but your teeth and gums and tongue will be sparkling clean while protecting those surfaces from damage by a regular toothbrush, all the while sparing you the grim reality of photos of me with this in my mouth, and that's truly a mouthful!

Whiter Pearly-Whites

My pearly-whites done good.  Or, maybe it was I who done (did) good (well)--sorry, sometimes good grammar has no punch at all.  The first of all the Things I get to do today is head off to the dentist for that twice yearly checkup and cleaning.  But now I'm back (patting myself on my back).  I had a great time there, though this appointment included measuring the pockets around and between the teeth.

The flashy flower that started it all.

For once, and this undoubtable the very first time, there was no underlying guilt or dread attached to revealing the inside of my mouth.  Since the first part of October, my mouth and teeth have been getting much finer care and attention.  See "Tooth Fairy Flower," of  10/9/11, "I Want to Keep Them All," 11/22/11, and "Tea Tree Teeth," 1/15/12 for details of the full journey up to now.

After describing my new oral hygiene regimen to the dental hygienist, we both waited eagerly as she checked the pockets around each tooth.  Cheers erupted four or five times as areas that were "4" now measured "3" or less with no bleeding gums. And it took hardly any time at all to remove tartar (less pain for me) since those deposits were smaller and thinner.

Whiter Pearlies

So it looks like I'm committed to the program.  It took a long while to fully engage my energy on this one.  I'm hearing the Beatles in my own version of "Will you still brush me, will you still floss me, when I'm 64?"  Oh, Yes, Baby!  I'm planning to stay with you forever.

Thank you Dr. Julie Furber and Dr. Elisabeth Kierkegaarde for all your encouragement.

I Want to Keep Them All

I have two dentists.  One I see twice a year for all the maintenance stuff.  The other I see about twice a year as well, but she's family, and we, just like you, seldom (never) do any dental work on family holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas.  Instead we eat chocolates and sweets, enjoy ourselves and just generally have a grand time (brushing and flossing afterwards, of course).  Her office is in California, a long way from Oregon, so any dental work has to be special, just like the holidays.

My mouth has seen a ton of dental work--I believe "ton" is a technical dental term for the many hours I've spent in the chair over the years.  Repairs for decay and chips, root canals, caps and crowns had left me a rather mismatched and unique gathering of teeth .  I'm sure it made her fingers itch every time I opened my mouth.

Dr. Julie did my two front teeth and all visible teeth on
the right side (my left).

One day she tactfully volunteered that if I would get myself to her office, she would have a go at creating order and beauty with my visible top teeth.  So I did.  I can't tell you it was a picnic having three crowns and a bridge done in one day, but even the temporaries looked better than what I had.  And I went home a few days later with the best teeth I had ever seen.

Seldom does a day pass when I don't consciously appreciate what I see in the mirror, what my tongue feels, and what bites into my toast or an apple.  And now that I'm flossing that bridge, I don't feel the guilt of disregarding her gift to me: lovely teeth for a warm smile.   With my new commitment to flossing, I was a bit taken aback by a the first few words of a post on Dr. Julie's professional Facebook Page:  Did you know that you don't have to floss your teeth?  Dentists recommend that you floss only the ones you want to keep!

Things I get to do today: brush and floss those pearly whites, take really good care of them and say thank you.  So here it is:  Thanks--to you, Julie Furber, DDS, Yucaipa, California.

Tooth Fairy Flower

Today is the day to come clean, to fess up, to no longer keep this dirty little secret.  Well, maybe it’s only dinge.   You decide.  Deep breath, here I go:  in the very recent past I’ve not practiced excellent  oral hygiene. 

There.  I said it.  Right out loud before God and all of you.  Understand, I’ve brushed my teeth all these years pretty faithfully twice a day.  I’ve used my little jet-spray-water-between-the-teeth-and-on-the-gums tool.  OK.  Maybe only three times a week or a little less.  And I’ve flossed a couple of times a week.  All right—if I’m really tell the truth—there have been weeks on end when I’ve not flossed at all.

In a previous blog I touted the virtues of doing something better if faced with a task that one doesn’t really relish.  In the spirit of “practice what you preach,” I’ve begun to apply the principle of “do it better” to my mouth care.

Instead of rushing the brushing so I can move on to the Things I get to do today, I’ve created a very short morning hygiene ritual (6 minutes--I timed it) to honor the years of service my teeth have given me and, equally important, to perpetuate their future years of service.  I want us all to be in great shape to the very end.

Deep, deep breath.  Final part of the secret and this one is dirty.  I’ve never flossed under my bridge.  Even the threat of having to have it replaced—a painful and expensive ordeal—did not motivate me.  I disliked getting out the little loops, putting the floss in, and then putting it in again because it had fallen out, etc.  so I glossed over the guilt and went out to plark*.

Last week I discovered some bridge-flossing loops that looked like plastic darning needles.  They appealed immediately to my sewing instincts.  Tried one.  Liked the ease, but thought of having to add that to my ritual and realized I probably wouldn’t.  But what if I. . .  The lights came on, the flower sprouted.  Minutes later my floss flower was in full bloom and ready for nearly a week’s worth of bridge maintenance.

Little floss stamens, newly sprung from a salt center.

My mouth is happier than it has ever been before, and the weight of guilt over such a small thing has floated up and away like the seed from this tooth-fairy flower.

*You remember what that means.  See post of 9/20/11.