Posted by: LucidMystery | February 28, 2009

The Never Ending Story (molar style!)

So, you’ve all at least heard of “The Never Ending Story,” right? Every time the book is read, a new story is unfolding, but always with the same elements: a boy named Bastian is immersed into a world of luck dragons, oracles, rock biters, and a Childlike Empress in an Ivory Tower. In every round of the story, Bastian, with the help of the Fantasian native American (?) Atreyu, has to save this world from some facet of apathy, most notably the modern disinterest in imagination.

Got it? K, cool. Well, I have a similar theme going on. Every time I go to the dentist, a new story is unfolding, except in my case, I get cavities instead of luck dragons and broken enamel instead anything in an ivory tower. The rock biter thing rings a bell, though, back when I used to chew on ice. But there is nothing apathetic about my taking care of my teeth; all 28 of my chompers (no wisdom teeth) get the empress treatment.

So what prompted this dental analogy? (Picture this in the voice of your older, sassy aunt who has a slight southern twang) well, let me tell you!

Last Christmas, I thought I had a cracked tooth. I could see a line across the top of the tooth and it was sensitive pretty often when I would bite down on food. Now that’s a problem; so I go to the dentist, she looks at my teeth and tells me it was probably an inflammation somewhere–take some Motrin, I’d be fine. Erm, au contraire. Last week, I was flossing my teeth, when my floss got stuck between two teeth, one of which was the one that had been bothering me at Christmas. So I give the floss a yank (BAD idead), and I see an old filling pop up. Moment of panic, pain, and a race to find my phone to call Mom. The filling was still somewhat in its place, so I pushed it back down (???good idead???bad idea???yo no se???) I get ahold of my dentist, and she tells me I can come during spring break, and just don’t eat on that side of my mouth. Ugh, annoying.

Fast forward to two nights ago. Again, I’m flossing (a jinxed practice, apparently) and my floss gets stuck on something else, this time on the other side of my mouth and far away from the sensitive tooth. I assume it’s food or something, I pull a little, and chunk of enamel breaks off!!!!!!!!!!! Cue another moment of panic and race to find my phone, although at least it didn’t hurt this time. The next day I get ahold of my dentist, she says she can fix it, but don’t chew on that side of my mouth–which means, if you’re keeping track, that I’m out of sides of my mouth. Meaning no solid food. Good thing I like milkshakes and tomato soup.

So what prompted this broken tooth? I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t been chewing on ice any time recently, I hadn’t noticed any pain whatsoever on that side of my mouth, and it still doesn’t hurt. But now I have an icky space between two teeth…at least it’s not in the front where my old buck-toothed gap was when I was a kid. It’s far enough back that even I can barely see it when I’m awkwardly craning my head in front of the mirror. Blech. It’s my West Virginia roots shining through.

Honestly, though, I have really good dental hygeine. I brush, floss, swish-swish the fluoride, and drink milk like the cow’s are gonna run out. And this is how those little molars thank me? By breaking randomly? By spitting out their fillings? Good land of the living. You know, my 12-year molars came in with cavities. And when I had sealants on my teeth to protect them, I just got cavities underneath them instead.

I can’t win.

I need a luck dragon. Or a pretty horse named Artax. Let’s go with the horse.



And by the way, I’m going to have to go watch this 80’s phenomenon of a movie now that I’ve trying to remember all the finer details. It won’t be as fun as when I watched it as a kid, though. I was pretty much in love with Atreyu; he was an older man.

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