Wisdom Tooth Week -- by Robin

I got my lower left wisdom tooth pulled this week. A filling had cracked, and I was advised to take it out.

Years ago, I had had four adult teeth pulled when I was getting braces, and I survived. I had totally forgotten that I also had my lower right wisdom pulled decades ago. I have a vague recollection that it was coming in crooked.

I know in the scheme of things health wise, the tooth pulling this week was thankfully not a big one, yet I found myself feeling uptight about it. Especially, when the dentist gave me the lengthy list of the potential aftermath that I might experience, however unlikely, that I had to sign off on. Who would want to get a tooth pulled after reading all that?! I wanted to bolt from the chair immediately, but the assistant came in and reassured me it was standard procedure.

Once the procedure was over and I was all numbed up from novacaine and on Motrin, I did some thinking.

Why was I so nervous? It was only a tooth.

I do have discomfort and a mild headache from it, but it will pass. And, ok, I'm eating just yogurt and sugar free jello right now, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

This procedure pushed a button. A fear button in me. And, one of control. I've found that as I've gotten older, I feel more vulnerable, yet at the same time, protective of my body. In my 20s, I didn't much think about it. Perhaps I felt invincible at the time? Now, I don't.

A number of years ago, I had a scary health scenario that ultimately turned out ok, but it left me with huge trepidation when it comes to doctors....or anyone in the medical profession. I want my body poked and prodded as little as possible by anyone in a white jacket bearing instruments or instrumentalia (as I said jokingly to a friend the other day).

I am appreciative for good medical care, but I'd prefer not to need it.

I recently saw the comedian Susie Essman perform at a very cool event in NYC called Women Who Write. She was hysterical, as she read from her new book (currently featured on the home page of MotherhoodLater.com). I felt like the words were coming out of my mouth, as I think many in the audience did. Susie is in her 50s and admits to often thinking she has diseases when she learns of someone who contracted it. Even if it's prostate cancer. LOL. I have been known, at times, I admit it....to refer to WebMd to look up symptoms I have in the search of self diagnosis. Sometimes it's calming, and other times it gets the wheels turning even further anxiously in my head.

Fortunately, I don't do this with my son. Although, when he recently was put on Tamiflu, I did read up on it a bit. Being informed is a good thing. Being overly fearful when it's not warranted isn't.

I certainly don't want Seth to know I do this....or to have health fears himself. I don't want this to rub off on him. My husband is not this way.

Is it a female thing?

Is it life as a 40 something female thing?

Is it life as a 40 something peri-menopausal female thing?

Perhaps all of the above.

I wish I could return to my more fearless 20-something self. But, we can't turn back the hands of time. And, like it or not, we need doctors, dentists, etc. I was not in a position to pull my own tooth...though my son probably would have taken great pleasure in rising to the occasion for me. He was quick to take out his toy medical kit when I got home. And, he was hugely disappointed when I told him I didn't have the pulled tooth. He asked why? Who knew it would be such a letdown for him not to see my cracked, cavity filled tooth?! If there is a next time (I have two remaining wisdom teeth), I'll know better.

He really is all boy. Perhaps a little dentist in the making? While I'm not so sure of that, I do appreciate his concern for my welfare and his curiosity about the human body.

The Tooth Fairy’s getting older!

My little one Melanie lost her first tooth the other day. It was a monumental right-of-passage moment in our family being that she is the youngest and last to go through everything. First there was crying because now she’d look different which then gave way to sheer excitement about the Tooth Fairy. We discussed the benevolence of said Fairy, how she gets in the house and if she had red or blonde hair. Was she in fact the same Tooth Fairy mommy and daddy had as kids? I told Melanie about the day when she was six months old and we discovered that tooth newly broken through her swollen gums.

Kelly, older and wiser at eight, reminded Melanie that she was lucky because it was Tuesday and the Tooth Fairy doesn’t come on Sundays or Mondays. Apparently I had missed one or two teeth-retrieving nights along the way and we gave poor Kelly a lame excuse that those were the Fairy’s nights off.

Melanie and I wrote a note on pretty paper, carefully put the tiny root-less baby tooth in a Ziplock bag and tucked it under her pillow. After a very hectic day and a glass of wine with dinner, I was exhausted and fell asleep early.

The next morning Melanie came running down the stairs into the living room where I was drinking my morning coffee and thumbing through the newspaper. She held up a fistful of coins and paper money and shrieked, “Mommy, Mommy the Tooth Fairy came. LOOK.”

SH_ _ SUGAR. I forgot. But…how? I was truly shocked opening my eyes and blinking to see clearly. For a split second I felt like the movie Peter Pan where everyone chants: I do believe in Fairies. I do. I do. Then my husband came upstairs from the den with a wide grin on his face.

“How much money did you get Melanie?” he asked. They counted out $3.68. Oh Thank God for him because this dunderhead mother fell asleep and forgot. I’m glad we didn’t have to cross out yet another day off the Tooth Fairy’s rounds.

That night eating dinner, I bit into a soft veggie burger and cracked off a piece of my back molar. It didn’t hurt and although grateful that I didn’t swallow it, I was horrified that I’m like an old woman losing teeth and next thing I’ll be sprouting stray hairs out of my chin. It is a weird feeling to lose your tooth or a piece of one. I understood why Melanie cried. I’m not happy that now they’ll have to yank out the filling that’s exposed and maybe even the rest of the tooth with it. I’m sure I’ll need root canal or a crown—expensive—which let’s face it who wants to spend on TEETH—let alone on me, mommy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been to the dentist. I think it was five years ago to fill this cavity that hurt over the years, but I ignored. It was just another thunk on the head in a long list of mommy not taking care of herself and my things that get put on the back burner.

The kids coaxed me to put it under my pillow and said I would definitely get money for even a quarter of a tooth, because “Mommy your teeth are way bigger.” Tom winked reassuringly at me. I couldn’t help but notice that the Tooth Fairy struck an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus only with wings and a wand.

When’s the last time the Tooth Fairy visited your house or that you’ve been to the dentist for yourself?