Today I made another trip to the dentist. I was dreading the visit because of our experience last time. But this time around we were there for a check-up for my daughter. Not having my son with me made things a bit easier, however I would have welcomed his recall when we arrived, because the office looked “normal” again, and all the furniture was back in the “right” spots. I started wondering if I had dreamed our previous visit, but sadly I had not. This was further confirmed when I got my MasterCard bill. In Canada we may have Universal health care, but we also have good beer, Caramilk chocolate bars and maple glazed donuts, and so it goes that we have to pay for the resultant tooth damage.
Today we were just there for an exam, but there was talk about her needing braces in the future. The talk was mostly wishful pleading on behalf of my daughter. She is anxious to get them “before high school when my life really starts.”
Neither her father nor I look forward to paying for braces, but if she needs them, she needs them. Her dad is handy though; maybe he can rig something up using metal twist ties industrial strength Velcro. This, and not crooked teeth, should be her worst fear. The man once made me a “portable party radio” from an early 80’s cassette player, empty Stove-Top stuffing box and electrical tape.
I understand her desire for good teeth, but unfortunately genetics are not on her side here. Her dad had braces when he was young, and I should have. My bottom teeth currently look like a picket fence after a wind storm. I needed braces, but so did my sister and she won the coin toss. Although in retrospect it hardly seems fair since she also got the good hair. So when it comes to her genetics, all my daughter can count on is 60 years of plucking her eyebrows, a disdain for multiplication tables, and a remarkable ability to beleive she is right in any given situation – which will come in handy when trying to explain to her ninth grade math tutor that 6 x 8 SO DOES EQUAL 46, SO SUCK IT MR. MATHLETE…
After the exam was finished, the dentist came out and spoke with me, and explained that X-rays reveal that my daughter has no adult teeth in the back of her mouth, and so her molars will need to last her until she is in her twenties. At that point they will need to be replaced with either expensive inserts or other costly dental apparatus. This is why she has been slow to lose her baby teeth and why the tooth fairy has not been seen in our neighbourhood since early 2008.
At this point I’m thinking that if I wanted to spend this much money for nothing but criticism and stress, I would have been better off taking my high school nemesis to an expensive wine bar to talk about the “good ole days.”
I confirmed with the dentist that she said her twenties and not the twenties (meaning 2020) and was told yes, her twenties. I turned to my daughter and gave her the same advice any responsible, caring mother would give a daughter in this situation.
“Marry someone with a comprehensive dental benefits package.”