Adult Orthodontia; A Tragedy in Several Acts

Yep, it's been awhile since I've blogged about anything. It's been a busy Fall, filled with lots of yardwork, Gymnastic Meets for Child, and general getting back into the swing of another school year.

During the time of my little "hiatus", I am pleased to say that Child is beginning to show all the signs/symptoms of having entered puberty; Clothes that fit back in September have been outgrown, and moods that had been fairly predictable have now become quite 'random'. Oh , and... yeah, she also has fallen in love (Yep.. you guessed it- the guy is "Friend"). Hormone central it is...

So... I'm watching all of this , and thanking the heavens above that I am *done* with that period of life, because you could not pay me enough to book a one-way ticket in some time machine to go back. Should have knocked on some wood....

Everyone pretty much knows that getting braces is a rite of passage for quite a few kids/teens. When I was a kid growing up, my bottom teeth came in a bit crooked. My dentist's philosophy was, "if they wouldn't have come in crooked, they would not have fit- so that's good!" My two University Professor parents thought that was pretty spanky news, and I was never brought to an ortho for a consult. Basically, the teenage years were filled with all kinds of angst and stress; just not the type caused by metal brackets and wire.

So, my dear Reader, for your reading (and possible enjoyment and/or curiosity), I present my original piece entitled, "Adult Orthodontia; A Tragedy in Several Acts":

Scene 1: Shock and Awe

Lying in bed one evening, getting ready for a most excellent date with Mr. Sandman, I felt a most bizarre pulling sensation in my upper teeth. Having survived two knee surgeries, and a nice 40 hour labor with Child, I ignored it- thinking it to be nothing. Next day, I sat down to consume some yummies, and heard/felt the feeling of teeth clanking- enamel-on-enamel!

Me: (to Husband) "Oh my God! My teeth are clanking! What the heck!"

Husband: "Really?"

Me: (starting to get very "oogied-out") "Umm...yeah.... I can't chew right!"

Husband: "Probably should go to the Dentist."

After a blue-knuckled drive to the Dentist (aka 'Tooth Fairy'- don't ask....), I sat down in the 'ol dental recliner to get the news.

Dentist: "What appears to be the problem today?"

Me: (trying to sound cool about the whole thing) "I can't seem to chew food without my teeth clanking as though I'm toasting 'cheers!' "

Dentist: (in his typical soothing, high-pitched voice) "Let's take a look, shall we? Well, it appears that you've had an orthodontic shift. I can take care of that right now, if you'd like."

Me: (anticipating eating a solid meal again) "Sure"

Apparently, Husband and Dentist have a common item in their "bags of tricks"- a dremel tool. In less than 5 minutes, enough enamel was 'dremeled' off of several teeth to allow me to eat again. Hurrah... and 'See Ya'!!....

Fast forward to exactly one year later... Same feeling returns, as does the inability to chew. I guess we all know where this one is going...

Dentist: "You're back."

Me: "Yep, I felt that moving sensation again. I'm ready to open wide.... 'Dremel me' Dude!"

Dentist: (after taking a most thoughtful sigh break) "Well, I can do that 'adjustment' today, but I think you need to go see an orthodontist at this point."

Me: "(gulp)"

Scene 2: Reluctant Acceptance

So, after being reassured by the Dentist that I'd probably only be in need of a simple $100 retainer to "save the enamel" from repeated 'dremelings', I made an appointment to meet with the Ortho:

Me: "Hi, nice to meet ya. Dentist said that I probably just need a retainer so I can keep his dremel tool out of my mouth."

Ortho: "Well, not exactly. A retainer will keep correctly-placed teeth in their new position; it will not adjust ones that are out of alignment. The only solution is braces. But don't worry, you *will* get that retainer, too!"

Me: (trying to remain composed. Wondering how Dentist could have been so far off the mark for what would need to be done) "(wide-eyed stare of horror/disbelief)"

After being convinced that he could work his mojo witth 40 year-old vs. "teeth of babies", I decided that me and Ortho were going to have to move our relationship to the next level. That of....

Scene 3: Harsh Reality

The road to beautiful, straight teeth (and the ability to eat solid food w/o anxiety) began with the process called "records". On a sultry July day, I made the process official:

Tech: "______, please come back to the exam area."

(I stood up from my seat, and moved in the direction of the nice lady)

Tech: "Oh, are you the patient today?"

Me:(Having sensed that they didn't see a whole lot of women my age in the waiting room there for any other purpose than *simply waiting*, and having realized that we would be dealing with one another for the next year or so, I decided not to be snarkcastic.) "Yes"

After a few "hello" and "how do you dos", I was escorted past a row of dental chairs to a private room. Inside, I was thanking the heavens above that I would not have to sit in a room full of people Child's age, being a curiosity (read: freak show) for them. After biting down into trays of mint-flavored goo, and surviving the torturous X-Ray machine that actually held the head in place with probes going into each ear, I congratulated myself on having survived an adolescent rite of passage at Middle Age- woo hoo!

While I had undergone all of the preliminary work-ups, I tried to put off getting the appliances as long as I could, and made it another 4 months. Despite much wishful thinking (read: denial), the teeth shifted once again two weeks ago. Time to suck it up....

So, about three hours ago, I got my upper braces on (lowers yet to come- yippeee!). Thankfully, I went first thing in the morning, and avoided all of Child's peers:

Ortho's Dad (business partner, and grandpa-ish aged Dude): "So, we're giving you red and green bands for X-Mas today, right??"

Me: " (look of confused horror)"

Ortho's Dad: "You are giving her those, right Son?" (Ortho smiles weakly, understands that Dad is being a bit annoying)

Luckily, Ortho wasn't guffawing it up as much as his Dad, and everything got placed quickly and easily. After being given a 'survival kit', hygiene demo, and follow-up appointment, I was sent on my merry little way.

As I drove home, I tried desperately to get used to the feeling of my upper lip not being big enough to accomodate the train tracks running across my upper teeth. I discovered the hard way that it was going to be pretty hard to laugh, or smile, w/o feeling as though I looked like an @$$. I desperately wanted to come home and hide. I knew husband was meeting a friend for lunch; I sent up a silent prayer that he would be gone, and that I would not have to face anyone right away. No such luck...

(I entered the house. Dropped my keys. Removed my coat. Usually this little routine of mine does not attract any attention from anyone in my household. Today, however, was a whole different story...)

Husband: (Opening door with a big smile, bless him) "Hi! Let's see!!!!!"

Me: (still trying to get the mechanics of speaking w/o impaling my upper lip on brackets of braces) "I haven't even looked yet!"

(Bravely, I opened my mouth for the man that I've been happily with for the last 20 years...)

Husband: "You look so CUTE!!!"

Me: (appreciating the compliment, but just wanting to hide under a rock) "I look ridiculous!!!"

Husband: "You just look sooo cute!"

Me: (trying my darndest not to smile or laugh, having discovered that much practice would be needed in positioning of upper lip, as to not look like a total spaz) "Ummm... thanks??!!"

On the way out the door, Husband decided to give a little good-bye smooch; all I can say about that was "Ouch!!!!"... It's going to be an interesting year....

So... in order to try to keep this little 'situation' as light as possible, I decided to make a little "Top 3 List"

3. My daughter is actually jealous of something that I have, and that she does not (ha ha)

2. There is now some hope, that with the aid of my orthodontia, that I might have the pleasure of being carded again.

1. People will wonder who that "youngish-looking trophy wife" *is* on my husband's arm.