There are a lot of teeth dreams that go through my nights. Dream interpreters have all kinds of meanings about what this symbolizes, but I'm pretty sure that my nightmares of teeth falling out by the mouthfuls are about one thing- teeth.
I have teeth issues. Those that are there are good and solid. My parents were each missing one permanent tooth, my three siblings are missing none, me...seven. It's crazy in there. There is bridgework, an implant, and three baby molars that are hanging on for dear life.
Meeting new dentists has always been exhausting and depressing. They were intrigued, some spouting all of their involved, expensive, scary plans for treatment, even though I was just there for a cleaning. During the first (and last) visit to one in Michigan, he left the room and brought in colleagues to gaze and discuss the oddity that is my mouth. A couple predicted that someday I would have a beautiful smile. I would leave with lips closed tight, as always.
When we moved to Seattle, filled with the old dread, I went to another first appointment. There was a long form to fill out. With the usual history and medical information, but then there were real questions... "How have your past dental experiences been?" "What are your worries?" "How do you feel about your teeth?" "Your smile?" I wrote a lot.
Instead of taking me to the exam chair, he took me to a comfortable room to talk. He listened and reassured as all of my anxiety poured out, calmed some fears, and told me that I already had a beautiful smile. He ran a thoughtful and kind practice. When I finally had the (seven hour long) bridgework procedure, there were flowers waiting for me at home, thanking me for being a great patient! When he retired, I cried and hugged him, we laughed over how they used to have to give me gas to help me white knuckle through every appointment.
He left his office in the hands of a kindred soul. She and the rest of the office continue to take excellent care of us, inside and out. There are notes in my chart of things not to do, discuss, or pressure me about. My knitting comes along to distract me through the cleanings, and the hygienist notices when I drop a stitch and pauses her work while it is rescued.
At yesterday's appointment, during the water squirting, suctioning and scraping, there was some visualizing, imagining what else could be going on in the gateway to inside. When I got home, some cloth was gathered, and sparks started to fly (or maybe it was the Tooth Fairy?).
Just in case you're wondering, each of the boys is missing one molar. I worry for one of their children. You won't believe that I have a lot more to say about teeth, but I do, but I'll stop now!
P.S. The rainbow speckled cloth and thread are the work of Deb.
