My Dentist Drives a Hotrod

I have a 1966 Mustang Convertible named Miss Lucy.

I bought it way before we got the kids, before I was even with CC.

My dentist drives a 1966 Thunderbird Convertible.

I’m pretty sure he bought it with the money we’ve paid him since we’ve started going to him. I don’t remember seeing it until a couple years ago.

I had to take #5 to the dentist. I didn’t want to go because approximately eight months prior to this, I got my dentist house seats to my show for his wedding anniversary. All this means is I filled out a piece of paper at work; it’s such a small thing and no money comes from me. Then my dentist and his wife sent me this AMAZING bouquet of flowers in thanks.

Here’s a pic of them, poor phone quality, but you can see how pretty they are:

I was moved. I wrote a thank you note, eventually. The letter was overdue when I wrote it. Then I buried it. So here we were, eight months later, and I hadn’t properly thanked my dentist for the flowers and this is why I didn’t want to take #5 to get his toothache fixed. Besides, I knew he would have at least one cavity. They always do.

I don’t micromanage the kids’ hygiene, I can’t. I tell them to brush their teeth, their hair; I tell them to shower. I make sure they go into the bathroom. I don’t stand there and judge how well they are doing it. I only get involved if one comes from brushing their teeth with visible Cheetos imbedded across their incisors, or if I hear the water run for thirty seconds and one comes out wrapped in a towel, dry as the Sahara, still wearing their unsteamed glasses, claiming to have taken a shower. But I can’t micromanage. Jesus, I can barely manage.

This day I could not in good conscience get out of the dentist run. CC had let me sleep until 9:37. He ran all the errands. He made all the phone calls about doctors appointments. He was doing yard work, for Pete’s sake, and I’m intimidated by the leaf blower.

So I went and picked #5 up from school. Such a cute kid. He’s eight. He saw me and just about bounced right out the door; I could see him look back, like the secretary called his name and reminded him that I needed to sign him out before he left. I asked him to show me his teeth, which actually looked pretty okay. But he had one nostril caked in green snot, and one nostril caked in blood. I stopped by home for a washcloth and attempted to clean the nose a bit.

Me: Does your nose keep bleeding?

#5: No, it’s just been like that for a long time.

Me: You mean you haven’t washed it off ever?

#5: No. Should I?

Me: Um, yeah.

And how is it that it doesn’t come off in the shower? And how is it that I haven’t noticed it? And what, exactly, qualifies as “a long time”?

At the dentist, it was quickly determined that #5 had two cavities. I sheepishly gave the dentist my ancient thank you note and thanked him again about ninety times. #5 got a Fluoride treatment.

The thing about the cavities is that I really blame myself, even though I had nothing to do with the genetic plan that laid out the enamel strength of their teeth.  Our pediatrician, whom I hate, gave me a prescription for vitamins with Fluoride for all the kids. Nobody would take them. I couldn’t remember to remind them. And? I don’t sanitize their toothbrushes in the dishwasher like their mother did.

#5 picked out a bendy pirate from the toy drawer and was putting it into yoga poses on the drive home, which is about ninety seconds with traffic. He was cracking himself up. Everything seemed fine. We got out of the car, then onto the sidewalk and he said,  “My tummy hurts,” and just like that, threw up. He had totally swallowed about half of his Fluoride treatment.

I helped him through it. He threw up twice and as he was kneeling down dry heaving, he said, “Hey, is that a piece of food?” and I said, “I don’t know, why don’t you pick it up and find out?” He laughed, then dry heaved. He was grabbing his crotch and squirming, said he had to go to the bathroom really bad. But every time he tried to walk he threw up again. Luckily, I had the nose washcloth with me and got him stable enough to run inside. He simultaneously peed and threw up in the toilet, which impressed me, and figured he was done.

I got him settled on the couch and he started to cry a little. So I held him and I said, “You didn’t throw up on yourself and you didn’t pee your pants. Sounds like a pretty good day to me!” He laughed a little and buried his head in my shoulder.

Then he said, “You know what would really make it a bad day for you? If I threw up on you right now.”

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8 thoughts on “My Dentist Drives a Hotrod

  1. NOW I remember why I don’t have kids! HYSTERICAL! So, whenever I get blue that I was never able to have kids, I’ll just read a few of your blogs, Julie. These are great. Keep up the great writing!

  2. OK, first things first: You’re funny! I can tell this is a blog I’ll have to revisit often. In fact, I’ve already subscribed. (No pressure …) Now that said, I feel the need to point out that one doesn’t have to thank someone for sending you a thank you. You gave your dentist a gift and he thanked you. ‘Nuff said. Oh, and while we’re talking teeth I would be remiss if I didn’t say something about fluoride.

    I worked in dentistry for 25 years and the kids who didn’t get fluoride … well, horror stories for the most part. I’m talking midnight emergency trips to the dentist (or ER) tooth infections, root canals and crowns on teenage kids who ended up suffering through more pain than any kid ever ought to have to bear. Fluoride is one of those little Godsends that if used when you are young, will help save teeth, your sanity and your bank account for years to come. (That, and sealants too) Get the liquid and teach the kids to put it in their juice once a day. They can handle that, trust me. Just lay out the options … do the drops or spend the rest of your life getting shots of Novocaine and paying dental bills. Oh, and a little tooth brushing supervision goes a long way toward avoiding future dental (b) ills too. Just sayin’ ….. 😉

  3. OMG, there’s a liquid you can put in their juice? I had no idea. That tidbit right there makes this blog worthwhile. That I can make happen. Nobody in my house forgets to drink their juice. I don’t understand why it isn’t in the tap water anymore. It was where I grew up, but that was in a different state.

    1. Yup … talk to your DDS … they can write an Rx for it. Just don’t add a big dose to a jug of juice unless you limit the kids to one shot of it a day. Otherwise, they could get too much of a good thing! 😉

      I don’t know why you don’t have fluoride in your municipal water. Odd, that. (You don’t have a well, do you?) Of course, there are many who oppose it, say it’s overdone, but I have to wonder how many years they sat chair side and witnessed the ravages of those who went without? My BIL married a Russian gal who came over the pond with her preteen daughter. Poor kid has had more painful (emergency) dentistry done in her mouth in the last six years than most American adults I know. I feel so bad for her.

      Good luck! Wish I could offer some tips to help prevent the post-fluoride barf fest, but I’m afraid he’ll just have to learn not to drink the stuff … silly kid!

  4. Lol! Wondawful! The boy is just too much. On a serious note, this fluoride thing needs to be reviewed. I’m a dentist myself, and this has been a subject of great debate in the dental community. I guess I’ll post what I presented to my teachers in final year.

Comment. It gives me a reason not to clean my house.

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