My earliest recollections of going to the dentist was when I was about seven years old. I remember that because the dental office sent me a birthday card for my eighth birthday. I felt special because they remembered, and because the card was so neat. It had a wheel between the front of the card and the inside left of the card. The front had a square cut out to reveal one of the numbers printed on it. My card showed “8” at the time. I think I kept that card for the longest time—for sentimental reasons as well as the thought that someday I might make a similar card later in life. I have lost track of the card now.
Now to the present. I just had one more session with my dentist this morning. Last month I had three sessions with the endodontist, and I need to make an additional appointment with the periodontist. We are in the age of specialization! Even though I have dental insurance, I still have to come up with co-pays on some things, some other services are not covered at all, and I have already maxed out my benefits for this year. Oh to have the teeth of an eight-year old.
The top picture is on the dentist’s front counter. The picture below is what I need to take to the periodontist. It looks like a have a foot in my mouth instead of teeth. I just want to be able to eat some corn on the cob, steaks, hard candy, and other goodies soon.
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