As I sat in the beautifully upholstered chair sipping complimentary tea, the monitor in front of me showed what the elite dentist’s state-of-the-art, camera-laden prodder thingy was seeing in my mouth. She was way too pleasant as she made small comments to her associate in dental shorthand that was pretty easy to follow. I translated.
Some surface erosion.
Holes there.
Looseness of these two teeth.
Gum deterioration. Pocketing.
The cushy office and the tea did not help stave off the promise of oral doom. Nor did the beautiful brown complexion of my dentist, which I had seen to with a thorough canvas of two recommended internet sites (www.findablackdoctor.com was one). This office was amenable, honoring the discounts provided by my non-insurance—coverage under a provider able to charge a smaller monthly by calling themselves a “share” plan vs insurance—despite that the office was out of network. And the cleaning was thorough.
So was her evaluation.
“There are three ways people lose teeth,” she explained. “A traumatic bite, gingivitis or gum disease, and tooth decay. You have varying stages of all three.”
I was flabbergasted. I considered myself a wonderful oral self-hygienist, particularly since I had contended with braces as a child. No, I did not floss every day, but I did most days. Granted, I had not been to see my childhood dentist in Carson, CA in two years. And the discontinuation of Mentadent was devastating (I’m still not over it). But my teeth cleanings were always shorter than normal and required very little scrape work.
Yet here we were. And there was more.
“Part of the recession of the gums is most likely the pulling of muscles from your cross bite.”
“I’m aware of this and the bite, as it has never been right,” I said. “I’m not sure if it’s congenital, but when I was getting braces at 12, my orthodontist tried to convince us that my smile would be perfect if I got jaw surgery to put my mandible where it belongs. We didn’t have $10K so it was a no-go. But I manage it well.”
“What do you do,” she asked, her associate leaning in.
“Feldenkrais has been helpful to relax the muscles of the mandible at night so that I don’t hold on to tension.”
“Felden…?”
Because I knew the epic treatment recommendation was coming, I was now excited that I could explain to her an option for mouth maintenance that she knew nothing about. Breaking down the neurokinetic benefit of Feldenkrais techniques demonstrated that I am body aware, learned and thorough; she should underestimate none of it along her path to treatment suggestions.
“So you’ve had some discomfort here and there and you’ve been managing it,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Good. A traumatic bite can, over time, still lead to tooth decay. There is a process for this that involves moving the teeth inside of the gums to fix this and promote tooth health.”
“It’s an involved process,” the associate added. “It’s also very expensive, about the cost of a car.”
My jaw would have to remain traumatized.
“Let’s move on.”
“You have some pocketing here and there and for this we recommend a deep clean,” the venerable dentist said. “For this one, we use anesthesia and get it all done at one time.”
“How much?”
“Up to two grand.”
I nodded, attempting with my thigh to pull my wallet closer to my body, as if this were possible.
“The last thing is the teeth,” she said. “The fillings you have are not designed to last more than three years, and as a result, we see areas of deterioration where particles have seeped in and decayed your teeth. Now, we recommend porcelain because it’s durable and lasts forever and it will prevent us from having to do them again in a few years. Remember that every time you replace a crown you end up losing a little more tooth.”
“How much?”
“Normally $1,850 but we’ll do them for $1,500 to honor your discount.”
Not too bad. I started doing math, figuring out how much of this I should spend sooner than later.
“Fifteen altogether?”
“Per tooth.”
I’m sure my teeth started twerking around in my mouth in protest. I did some quick math. “Between the eight teeth at $1,500 each and the deep clean, I’m still at over $10,000. That’s still the cost of a car.”
“Oh, when I said that, I meant a Mercedes or a BMW.”
Where is my jacket? And the elevator? I mean, seriously, it was looking bleak. Even a $15,000 price tag for oral health was absurd to fathom, although these women made an incredible case for why I should consider it.
“Would it make sense to get better dental insurance and then try to apply it to these procedures?”
“It won’t matter too much,” the associate said. “Dental insurance typically has minimum coverage and high deductibles.”
She told no lies. A bit of Google research revealed that dental insurance is more like AAA than it is a car warranty. The low maximum has been $1,000 for the last fifty years with no concern for inflation. The benefit helps little if it’s time to do a root canal or three, for example. And the goal of dental insurance is at most to prevent you from needing the root canal. Add to this a longer life expectancy, which pressures adult teeth to stand up longer than what was necessary 200 years ago, and the prevalence of sugar and now you have a setup for failure, pain and tooth-fairy-free loss.
I thanked them for the Friday effort, paid the $350 it cost (after the discount) and ran from the office.
I permitted myself a moment of self-pity. For the audience, dance is a visual art. This means what I look like matters__my body, my face, my teeth. Three solid minutes were spent walking around midtown wallowing in the career-dystopic eventuality that I struggle around New York trying to get a job despite my Dickensian mouth, pauper rotted and porridge ready because I could not find 15 grand…
But nobody has time for all that. By the time I reached the train, I had regrouped and sent my uncle, a retired dentist, an email asking for a second opinion. The response to my attached x-rays was quick.
“There is nothing wrong with these x-rays! Send me the periochart.”
Only there was no periodontal examination results to send. After a run-around with the dentist, she sweetly explained that to save her patients the discomfort of prodding below the gum line, she typically conducts the exam and the deep cleaning in the same Novocain-induced session. This meant that I would not know how many quadrants of my mouth would need help, and nor how big the price tag, until after awaking from the commitment.
I could see my uncle’s rolls his eyes in his email response to this explanation. My cousin Kim vetoed all of this too, insisting that I bring my ass to her brother-in-law’s office.
On this next Vegas leg of shows, I stole away to Los Angeles and made a same-day appointment to see Dr. Spears. Convivial and familiar, he listened to my account of woes and tipped me back to look.
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Give me the bad news first.”
“I think they were trying to take you for a ride,” he said. “The good news is that your teeth are fine and there’s nothing I can do for you today. I’d add a water pick to your regimen, but if you’re using the plastic retainers as you said, you’ll be fine.”
He advocated for the other preventative stuff too: rinsing with warm salt water once or twice a day is good for the gums, swishing a teaspoon of coconut oil around for twenty minutes once in a while and flossing daily are key.
Do I think I was being taken for a ride in NY? Meh. I think they were probably very reasonable for the demographic they serve, which does not include people in my artist tax bracket. How else could they pay for the camera/prodder thingy?
Am I thrilled about my new Pasadena, CA dentist, Dr. Jason Spears? Yes. I need to send the NY dentist a Thank You card. Because what my cousin and in-law neglected to warn is that Dr. Spears has charming freckles sitting on a face that his underbite hardly disturbs, and glassy maybe-hazel/maybe-green eyes that overrule any objections a patient might have to opening their mouth—no penis or pun intended.
No really, get thine head from the gudder!
(And inbox me if you need your teeth cleaned and can’t find Dr. Spears’ information. 😉)