 Ed Garren, traveler, thinker, writer. By Ryan Gierach. |
In 03, I had tripped and fallen on my face. Actually, it was my jaw that came slamming down on the pavement. I got up with chips of one front tooth in my mouth, and cracks in some of my other front teeth. I went to my then dentist, who gave good news and bad, "they're okay for a while, but don't take too long to get them fixed."
My history with dentists is not a great one. When I was about five, they took me to one, who strapped me in his chair, and started working on my teeth, with no anesthesia, and the old low speed drills (1955 technology) that sounded and felt like a Black & Decker in my mouth. I screamed, bit his hand, and kicked him, they let me go.
When I was about fifteen, I got a really bad toothache in a lower right molar. I convinced myself it was nothing, telling the dentists receptionist, "It's just a little black streak on the top, I'm sure he can whisk it away easily.”
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The dentist's name (I kid you not) was Dr. Carver. He actually did an okay job, putting a "medicated filling" into the molar, tooth #30, which had very deep decay. And he went on to fill about 15 other cavities in my teeth over two months of visits.
In my 30s in Los Angeles, I dated a dentist for a while, we stayed friends. I got "at cost" dental care from him, which was a good thing. My non-profit alcohol & drug treatment jobs did not offer any dental insurance.
That "medicated filling" continued to need work from time to time. The metal fillings spread out on my teeth and filled the openings between them, making flossing impossible for most of my teeth.
A few years ago, old #30 acted up again, and I got a porcelain/resin inlay over the tooth that the dentist said was a hair away from a root canal. He drilled it very close to the nerve, and even with a lot of Novocain, I could feel the heat of the drill.
And he told me that the large metal fillings in my mouth would eventually split my teeth and I'd need root canals and crowns on them when that happened. He suggested crowns before the teeth split, but at $1,500 a crown, and no dental insurance, it didn't happen.
While visiting Asheville North Carolina this winter, I decided to look into getting the cracked teeth fixed. I went to a dentist who my sister in law suggested, a woman my age, from New Orleans, whose parents were "street artists" in the Crescent City. We hit it off instantly, and I decided to let her do the work.
 Dr. Kathryn, the dental “artiste” and her assistant Glenda. I’m the object d’ art in the middle. |
I often tell clients that psychotherapy is the emotional equivalent of going to the dentist. The practitioner asks you to "open wide,” then we poke around till we find something that's painful, the first place to start work. It's deep, intimate, and there is no easy way to get the work done. And some of it is going to hurt, a lot. There is no way to get rid of the "decay" without some discomfort and pain. But, it beats having rotten teeth or a rotten life.
So, my diagnosis, 16 teeth all in need of restoration. This included the front four.
For a moment, the idea of dentures was not so bad. I let go of that thought. And I was offered a volume discount ($1,000 a crown).
I have friends in their 60's who are going through implant hell. It's either implants or "choppers,” old style press to fit, false teeth. A lot of them had to have hip bone grafted onto their jaws because there was not enough bone density to put in the posts for the implants.
I decided in the long run, it's better to restore the teeth I have.
Kathryn is an extremely talented dentist. She is one of those rare dentists who understands she's not making teeth, she's making sculpture. Color, hue, size, shape, and the integration of the "restorations" are all part of her considerations. She's as close to a perfectionist as it gets, and I could feel that in her work. Her office is a "Dental Spa,” offering massage, hot towels on painful jaws, perky staff with a great sense of humor, finished in tasteful designer perfection. It's a great place to have an intimate get together.
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If you've never had a crown, it's sort of like this. They make an impression (or cast) of your tooth. Then they grind it down to an "abutment,” something for the crown to fit on. They take another impression of the abutment. Then they make a temporary crown to go over the abutment, while they send all the impressions to a lab to make the prosthetics. That part takes about a week. During that time, it's soft food, not too hot or cold. You don't want the temporary crown to come off.
Then the crowns come to the dentist, who works to perfect the fit of the crown to the abutment. Once the fit has been worked to perfection, the prosthesis is cemented on with a compound that "cures" in ultraviolet (blue) light. When that cement sets, the crown is permanently bonded to the abutment, and the only way to take it off is to grind it off or pull the tooth out. It's as close to having new "real" teeth as it gets.
 The hostess/receptionist, Tish. By Ed Garren. |
Then there's the "Lie back with your mouth open part. On one day, I was in the chair over 8 hours, having 12 teeth prepped for the new crowns. I was exhausted for the next two days.
It's sort of like re-building a washing machine, in your mouth.
A friend and I had a talk about one's 50's, particularly the latter 50's as a time of unavoidable angst. It's when the last veneers of youth fall away, like having teeth that are about to split. One looks old age squarely in the face. Like much of life, it is either awful or liberating. It depends on how one decides to do it.
I'm lucky, I have a lot of friends 20 years older than me, and I've listened to their counsel. I'm also lucky, at this stage of my life, when I least expect it, I have men half my age coming out of the wood work who are attracted to me.
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I guess I did something right.
Like much of my own waltz with aging, I've always realized that what I do now has a direct affect on twenty years from now. I've known a lot of gay men who planned to be dead by 40, and then woke up and found that in spite of their best efforts, they were still living, but in a very thrashed body. Thrashed is never pretty.
There are good things about surrendering to the process of getting older. The most liberating aspect is that I just don't have to be so patient or tolerant with B.S. anymore. It's the ultimate "Been here, done this, I'm over it.” Like Whoopi Goldberg's new character "Lurline,” I've adjusted.
After a lifetime of working for change, I've accepted more of my own limitations. "It's messed up, it's not my fault, let someone else fix it.” The most liberating words are, "I don't know.”
And I've concluded that nationalized dental care is a good idea, unless we want to be a nation of people with ugly teeth. And unfortunately, in my travels I've discovered we are.
What I do know is that being alive, enjoying each day, God's creation, friends, skies, clouds, and the ever changing earth under my wheels, that is what I live for today. Tomorrow, I'll deal with tomorrow.
And I'll have good teeth to bite anyone who tries to hurt me.
There are times when regular politics will not do, and this is one of those times - Molly Ivins.
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Edward "Ed" Garren, MFT, is a Family Therapist, justice activist, former West Hollywood City Council candidate, writer and sojourner. He is originally from the Tampa Bay area of central Florida. Ed has been published in the Los Angeles Times, Frontiers news magazine, and other books, including "Out of My Mind,” a pictorial memoir by Kris Nelson. He is currently working on a book about Addiction in America.
Ed Garren can be reached, even in the Red America’s wilds, at