Dental Cram

After a good dental cleaning, I feel like a new man, like I just had new teeth installed. They're shiny and smooth and I don't eat for a few hours, savoring the even space between each tooth. In the days and weeks after my semiannual visit, I'm meticulous in preserving their pristine condition. I brush twice a day and floss at least once, and Listerine burns away germs and some skin cells.

My track record for dental care has been uneven. While my parents' responsibility, I had regular visits and fluoride treatments. I don't think I used floss or mouthwash until I was older, though. And at some point between college and my first job at a company which lacked a dental plan, when my teeth became my own responsibility, I stopped going entirely.

Almost two years after I finally got a job with a dental plan, a decaying wisdom tooth finally sent me back. The rest of my teeth were in good shape considering a six year absence from professional care, but those wisdom teeth had to go. One had a cavity while another was badly impacted, and it's a common practice to simply remove all four at once. Since the two bottom ones were the problems, the two top ones would have lacked support and turned against me down the road anyway. I was born with an extra tooth, and around eight or nine already had the “pleasure” of having a tooth removed from my crowded mouth. “That's not pain; it's pressure,” assured the dentist, grabbing a wrench with two hands while bracing himself against my chair with one foot. No, when I had my wisdom teeth out, I made sure that I was out, completely anesthetized. They only woke me once to turn my head, and I did hear some drilling and see some sparks that made me glad for anesthesia.

After that, I resumed normal visits. I had my first filling around the age of 28, and my second about two years later. I took great care between visits, but did notice a trend. For the first few weeks, I'm diligent. At some point, flossing stops entirely. I don't have time in the morning and I'm tired at night. Mouthwash happens 3 or 4 times a week tops. Pretty soon all I'm doing is brushing.

About a month before my next visit, I start to feel like a kid who hasn't studied for his finals. The lapse reverses, and mouthwash rejoins brushing twice a day. Soon I'm flossing, a painful and bloody experience the first two or three times. It’s like cramming for a test, and the less time the hygienist needs to spend scraping, and the less my gums bleed, the better.

It takes a conscious effort, and I'm not as bad as I used to be, but there's still some point in the six months between visits where I still slack off a little. Brushing and rinsing endure, but flossing still falls by the wayside after a few months, and doesn't resume until a few weeks before my next appointment. On my last visit, they recommended ACT® rinse. While Listerine was taking care of gingivitis and plaque, ACT® would do more to strengthen my enamel like a fluoride treatment. I'd be extraordinarily happy if I went the rest of my life without another cavity, if I never needed false teeth like my dad. I was on board with their suggestion, and rushed right out to get a bottle.

It had a great cinnamon taste, though I was careful not to swallow any given the warnings on the bottle. My mouth had that fresh from the dentist feeling, my brain bursting with commercial clichés. Of course the next morning, the tip of my tongue had that “just ate hot pizza and burned off some taste buds with the cheese” feeling. Now, on the verge of returning to the dentist, I find that I only used that particular rinse 10 to 15 times in six months. This time around, I was a little more diligent with flossing, and brushing and Listerine rinsing were consistent. But this past week I've gone back to that other rinse, taste buds less important than “failing” my next visit.

I think even if I did maintain a consistent daily routine, I'd still have apprehension before my cleaning. Even in school, I found I was just as nervous about finals for things I knew inside and out as I was for the subjects in which I was lacking. Still, I hope my extra care this past week has been enough, and I hope I'm even more consistent over the next six months. Most importantly, I hope they don't ask me, ”Is it safe?”

Is it?