Max learned a lot at his visit to the dentist
The Dentist. Two simple words, yet they can fill so many of us with dread and worry. Dread because we fear what the dentist will do to us, and worry at the thought of any problems, not to mention the cost.
As a part of my ‘HIV care plan’, my doctor advised me that I should make regular dental appointments an ongoing part of life. This didn’t prove too onerous a task as I feel that I’ve maintained a good daily routine, although the time between checkups has lapsed at times into the years category – as was the present case.
So, feeling like I’d put it off long enough anyway, I made the first appointment for a check up. Was booking the last appointment on a Friday night a cop out? Time would tell.
My doctor recommended a dentist to me. One who would be sensitive to my case and who was used to treating positive patients.
The formalities were just that, all very pleasant with the usual questioning that one would come to expect: “How was I, health-wise?” “What are your CD4 levels and viral load?” and so on.
Please take a seat in the chair…
Now, I have been to the dentist before, but nothing prepared me for what came next.
Mouth open.
Firstly “woah” followed by lots of tut-tutting and ‘hmmms’ and ‘uh-huhs’ and then “Right. We’ll have to take some x-rays to see what the state of your teeth is.”
I’d always assumed that the primary purpose of dental care was looking after my teeth. Brush, brush, brush and get the plaque off, floss and get all the bits of food away from my teeth, so while I knew I had sensitive teeth, I wasn’t expecting to be told that my teeth were in a bad way…. And I was right, my teeth were pretty good. No fillings needed. Whew!
What I wasn’t expecting, and was the cause of all that odd noise making from the dentist, was the prognosis of my gums. Bad, dreadful, neglect, receding, infection, gum disease are all words that come to mind when I recall that night. What the hell is periodonitis?? I liked things much better when the dentist used to say “Well, you have a touch of gingivitis here.”
Did that explain my ‘questionable’ breath and compulsion for constant mint eating?
The dentist was thorough in his investigation and explained what he was doing, then he began cleaning my teeth.
It felt like a crowbar would have been gentler. I don’t think I’ve gripped anything quite so tightly as the stress ball he gave me. Eventually, after it felt like he’d ripped my gums and teeth apart, he announced that he’d done all he could for tonight and I’d have to come back next week to have the job finished.
It’s not finished??!! Come back?? For more?? You are kidding, right??
The dentist then explained to me the implications of unhealthy gums. The obvious is that if you have infection – it smells, and of course, bacteria is thriving and spreading making the whole mouth a pretty foul place.
If you don’t have healthy gums, your teeth aren’t going to stay in your mouth. That’s a scary enough thought to make me change my dental routine.
And then (this was news to me), gum health can be directly related to heart health. By maintaining a healthy mouth I am effectively reducing my risk of heart disease. Sounds like another great reason to effect good changes there.
From there began what I initially felt was going to be a series of humiliating visits to a dental hygienist.
I had to learn how to clean my teeth again and undergo a series of scrapings, fluoride treatments and ultrasound cleanings.
Seven months down the track things have stabilised, and my breath smells like that of a healthy person. The periodonitis is under control, but because I’d let it get so bad, will need to be monitored for the rest of my life.
At first I had to agree to three-monthly cleaning visits, but because of the progress I’ve made, they are gradually being extended to four-monthly with the anticipation that if I look after my teeth and gums, I can expect to move them further apart.
I won’t go into costs, as there are alternatives available as far as treatments go, and it’s up to us to shop around or use word-of-mouth until we find the place that suits us.
Not so surprising is the positive effect this has had on my sense of self. By taking control again of something I’d let get so out of hand, I feel again like parts of me (in this case my mouth) are back to what they should be and no longer cause me the worry and embarrassment it once did.
I would urge us all to take care of ourselves in this respect. You won’t be sorry you did.
