The Grafting Story

Monday morning. Dentist appointments. For all four children. Actually, it sounds worse than it really was. We used to dread dentist appointments for the children because it meant pinning at least one of them down with all our might while an assistant pried a little mouth open and attempted--amidst the blood-curdling screams--to insert a sharp dental tool. Now the children are all so well-mannered in the dentist's chair, those dreadful moments are but a long-distant dream.

The children are, in fact, more well-mannered at the dentist than I am. I would rather be on my back at the GYN's with my feet up in...well, suffice to say I don't like the dentist. At all. Not the dentist personally; she's actually a very nice lady who tells us our teeth are "delicious". It's the whole going to the dentist thing, enduring the scraping sound, answering the accusing questions like So do you floss everyday?, etc., etc. And I say that our dentist tells us our teeth are delicious, which actually is not the whole truth. She has yet to tell me that because I have not been in, well, a really long time, so I have yet to experience this new dentist's torture care. My husband says we've already met our deductible this year so it would be prudent for me to get my cleaning in before the year's end. I'm fighting him tooth (and nail).

Anyway, Monday it was. At the dentist. With all four children. Jacob's teeth are "delicious", and the only thing he may need in the future are braces to make all of his teeth squish together. Alex requires a mouth expander to correct her jaw, after which she will require braces. We already knew this and have her scheduled at the orthodontist next month. Audrey is too young to really tell much except for the fact that her mouth is a mini-Alex-mouth (the dentist's words, not mine), so if we have any of the children's college fund left by the time her turn rolls around, I guess we already know what treatment she will require.

As for Michael. Oh, his poor little mouth. He requires the same jaw extender followed by braces as Alex and already has his ortho appointment scheduled as well. What really concerns me about him are his receding bottom gums. The dentist attributes it to him being a mouth breather, which I thought meant he breathes through his mouth (duh!); however, she explained that because his bottom and top teeth do not come together, "mouth breather" refers to the fact that a lot of air enters through his teeth into his mouth. No idea what this has to do with receding gums, but anyway. The whole ortho thing as well as better brushing, she said, should keep his gums from getting worse.

However. There is no way to correct the problem that has already progressed. I was told that later he may require a graft. I know all about grafting because when I was little, I was involved in an accident which resulted in my best friend receiving skin grafts on her leg burn. But in the mouth? On the gums? Unfortunately, I asked a couple of questions like, Where does the gum skin for grafting come from? There are two choices: from the roof of his mouth or from a cadaver.

I think I threw up in my mouth a little when she said that. Not that I am not grateful to anyone who donates their organs. Or gums. And not that cadavers gross me out. I mean, I've always wanted to take Gross Anatomy just so I could work on a cadaver. However, you know and I know that I would not stick a piece of my cadaver's gums in my pocket to use later in my son's mouth when I got home from the lab.

She told me all of this in a whispered tone as if my son knows all about grafting and cadavers. He of course was oblivious to it, much as he apparently is oblivious to effective teeth brushing. I have moved all of the kids' toothbrushes down to my bathroom so I can take the chore over again. Except for Alex's; the dentist said she is brushing well.

Like I said, they all did great reclined in their chairs, under the bright lights, decked out in sunglasses, watching the Disney channel of choice. Alex even sat calmly through that especially torturous dental exercise of cramming a gigantic plastic tray of goo in your mouth which you must then hold in there for a blasted Eternity, all the while fighting it with your tongue while fighting to breathe at the same time. When I checked in on her and saw the thing protruding from her mouth, I gagged and had to excuse myself from the room immediately.

Audrey is the only one who fussed at all. During her cleaning, she cried because she did not like the taste of the dentist's choice of toothpaste. While this may seem a trivial and silly matter to the regular person, anyone of royalty knows that when something foreign and unpleasant touches a princess' palate, a few tears must be shed. Her tears dried quickly, however, when the hygienist lead her to the huge Treasure Chest.

The Treasure Chest is always something to look forward to at our dentist's office. As is the chocolate treat. Yes, our dentist has bowls of chocolates lying around her office. I teased her about this once, and she explained that chocolate is not bad for your teeth, just the chewy and hard candies.


Chocolate. That magic word. In spite of myself, I may learn to like this dentist. If you need me, I'll be summoning up the courage to make that call and get me penciled penned in to the appointment book.