THE STRANGE CASE OF THE MISSING TEETH

 

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I cannot forget the shocked expression on the young dentist’s face.

“Where are all your teeth?”

“Uhh… in my mouth, where they should be?” I mumbled, perched on the leather chair as he peered into my mouth.

His eyes widened with bewilderment as he leant forward, almost falling into the gaping cavern in front of him.

“Three missing here… three on the other side! Two more here and a broken tooth!”

I was quite shocked out of my wits. Where had all my teeth disappeared to? I did recall a few sittings earlier where some of my wisdom had been yanked out, but eight and a half teeth? I was a walking miracle! More importantly, an ‘eating’ miracle! When my better half agonised over one painful grinder that made life (and mealtimes) miserable, here I was, chewing away at everything in sight with not a care in the world.

The mystery deepened. Had I swallowed my teeth unwittingly? The X-ray of my mouth reminded me of the exhibit I had seen of a dinosaur skeleton in a museum. Its mouth had a couple of teeth, then a huge gap, then a few more teeth.

The dentist was still explaining about how I could recover my losses.
“You could have dentures, if you like. Those gaps will begin to trouble you when you are older.”

Visions of dentures floating in glasses came to my mind. All four of my grandparents had boasted of pearly dentures. Come night, they would take them out with a click, painstakingly brush them, almost as if they were polishing silver. Then they would slide them into a glass of water and switch off the lights. My sisters and I would stare in fascination as they glinted in the dimness, almost as if they were grinning at the world.

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There was a lull in the conversation. The dentist was waiting for me to give my verdict. “I don’t think I am old enough for dentures,” was trembling at the tip of my tongue, when suddenly I remembered a teenaged friend of mine who had had two of her front teeth knocked out in a fall. She had two teeth put in and she could slide them in and out with one flick of her tongue.

I was not going to take a chance with dentures. If my real teeth had disappeared without a trace, what hope was there for dentures? I did not trust them one bit, sneaky little critters!

“Oh, but you can go in for fixed dentures,” came the prompt rejoinder. “They will be attached, immovable assets, if I may say so. They will be placed in the gaps. You will not even know they are there.”

“Fill in the blanks, huh?” the teacher in me couldn’t resist retorting.

“Expensive?” my husband asked warily.

“Slightly, but it will be worth it finally!” the dentist answered.

By now, the real reason why we had come to the dentist had been pushed into oblivion – my husband’s tooth which required a root canal treatment. My non-existent teeth had taken centre-stage.

The young man was extremely patient. He answered all our queries without batting an eyelid. If the gaps had be filled, he would need to take the measurements and create a set of brand-new teeth in ceramic or some such material. I pondered over whether I should go in for a couple of gold teeth but felt that they would be too distracting in the long run. Or I could be ‘crowned’ – the next option!

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Ceramic? My over imaginative mind envisioned something akin to a mini wash basin inside my mouth. Wasn’t that the first thing that came to mind when the word ‘ceramic’ was mentioned? I didn’t even want to think of the second thing that sprang to mind.

“Think over it and come back.” It was a big decision, both for my mouth and for our pockets.

Back home, my husband lost no time in informing everyone he knew and didn’t know) that my teeth had disappeared without letting me know. Every single one of them reacted in the same fashion – they split their sides laughing. My ‘crowning’ glory was the butt of all jokes.

Once the laughter had subsided, the discussions began.

To fill or not to fill?

Or let Nature take its own path, and react when the roof of my mouth fell in? Hyperbole?

Whatever the reason, I decided to let things be. After all, I had the Bard himself on my side when he spoke about the Seven Ages of Man from his popular play ‘As You Like It’. After waxing eloquent on the schoolboy, the lover, the soldier, the judge, he moves on to the last stage of life:

'Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.'

I rest my case!