Smile Pretty!

"Aidan, put your shoes on. It's time to go to the dentist," I said to my boy this morning.

"Woo-hoo!" he shouted, jumping up from the chair, all smiles and giggles. He was ecstatic. Wait a minute -- it's not Christmas, is it? His birthday? Some other monumental event for which that level of excitement is warranted?

Nope. My boy just loves going to the dentist.
Yeah, I don't get it either.

The dental assistant was a wonderful, talkative woman who engaged Aidan every step of the way. He was fascinated with her every movement, with every step of the process. She even gave him a job to do, holding the saliva-sucker and applying when needed. He was absolutely beaming, enjoying every minute of it. I recalled my own terror as a child, that odd antiseptic smell in our dentist's office, the unceasing chatter of Roz, the assistant with the voice that sounded like a raspy frog took up permanent residence. Even the box of puffy stickers at the end wasn't enough to make me forget the horrors of visiting the dentist. Times have changed -- so far, my boy is fear-free.

He was allowed to pick out toothpaste and a new toothbrush, resulting in another onslaught of joy as he found the Holy Grail of toothbrushes -- the red Power Ranger toothbrush. My heart then swelled as he said, "Excuse me, may I please pick out a toothbrush for my little sister? She's only two, but she brushes her teeth too." He then rummaged through the instruments suitable for smaller children and selected a purple Dora toothbrush for his little sister. Yes ... awwww ... He was then directed to a box of toys, where he picked out a small yellow ball for himself and, after again asking if he could find something for his little sister, he was happy to find the sparkliest stretchy bracelet that his sister would love.

As I stood at the desk to pay the bill, the doctor -- who had just questioned Aidan's choice of baseball jerseys (a boy sporting a Phillies shirt in northern NJ is duty-bound to be questioned) -- came back out to talk to me. "Have you been in yet, Mom?"

Ah ... I was caught red-handed. I looked at him sheepishly as I told him that I had not.

"Have you been anywhere recently?" he asked.

There's no way out of this, is there ... Nope. I said. It's been a long, long time. I know I have to do it, but I have this horror, you see ... and no insurance ... OK -- I didn't say all of that. But it's true.

The last time I visited a dentist was shortly after Aidan was born, so we're talking about five years ago. Too, too long, I know. During my college, post-college, and early married years I had been a faithful dental patient, going every six months, because I could afford to do so. I had great insurance at my various jobs, and when I wasn't working Don's priestly package included almost 100% coverage. There was no excuse to avoid the dentist. But after Aidan was born things changed. I went to the place where Don had been going, figuring my husband of all people would be the most reliable endorsement. The dentist I saw was an Asian woman whom I could not understand at all, so I did a lot of smiling and nodding ... which is acceptable in a dentist's office, since you can't really speak anyway. I had two cavities to fill, so a return visit was inevitable. But then something strange happened, which kept me away from dentists altogether for the past five years.

"You have to have your wisdom teeth taken out," I understood her to say after a brief interlude of mental translation. Yes, yes, I know, my dentist ten years ago told me the same thing but I never got around to it. I've been living with it for a decade with no trouble, so ...

"You have to have them out now!" she said fiercely. Well, I can't. First of all, I can't afford the down time it will take, feeling indisposed for a few days during recovery. I have a newborn; I can't take "time off" right now for this. He's my priority. Besides, I was nursing exclusively at the time and I couldn't go through all of that while nursing. I'll wait.

"NO!" she said. "You cannot wait. You have to stop nursing your baby!"

WHAT?! Are you crazy? Who do you think you are, woman?! I don't know you and you don't know me. How can you possibly suggest that I stop nursing my son just to pull out a few teeth? I was incensed. I had my cavities filled, and never went back.

So now what's my excuse? I have no more infants to care for, so that's out the window. I don't have dental insurance, though, which is a legitimate line of reasoning, though I know many people don't. If I can't afford to pay for dental care, it's not going to happen. That's the discussion I had with the doctor this morning.

"OK, look. You're a busy mom and you obviously take great care of your kids. You take your son here like clockwork, but you need to take care of yourself. Make an appointment for a cleaning and exam, both for you and your husband, and it will be free. If you need work done, well, then we'll talk about it then. But you need to take care of your teeth and I don't want money standing in the way."

Ummmm ... what just happened there? I feel like I was talking to Doctor Baker from Little House on the Prairie, willing to waive a fee because patient care is more important. I wonder if he would accept a chicken or some other bartered good. I make a mean apple pie that Caroline Ingalls would be jealous of.

So guess what? After five years of naught, I'm finally going to the dentist. I hate to see what kind of work needs to be done. But he's right -- I do need to take care of myself.

I wonder if I'll get a puffy sticker.