Anyone who knows me, knows that I put a lot of effort into my smile. I spent 6.5 years in braces. Switching orthodontists on the way. There was a crap load of frustration, disappointment and money involved. And I am so incredibly happy it’s over.
Finally. I’m at a good place orally. Or so I thought. I found out that I have severely receding gums. Part of it is due to the fact that my teeth were in prison for so long. It also doesn’t help that I brush my teeth like a four year old high on Sugar Daddy’s who has gotten her hands on a fine tooth comb and Barbie.
About 2 weeks ago I visited with a periodontal specialist to address this issue that I’ve been putting off for some time. Basically my gums have receded so badly that I will most likely have to have grafting done. If not, I am at risk of losing my six million dollar teeth. They are not bionic, but they sure the hell should be.
I looked at him and asked what he meant. If my gums don’t come down or up or rebuild or whatever it is that these people want my gums to do, I will have to either a) use my own gums from the back of my mouth or b) use donor gums.
Ok, say what? Can you repeat that? The thought of some dead person sharing their mouth with me turns my stomach. I don’t mean to sound like an ingrate, but really? Ewww. When I expressed how I felt about this — and believe me I did — he informed me that it’s not any different than if I received a donor heart or kidney or liver. Ok, but I NEED those things to survive. And I won’t see them every time I open my mouth. And I’ll be grateful to them because I am alive.
But a cadaver’s mouth in my mouth??? Then he said there is another option. They can take it from a pig. Ok, well, just call me “Wilbur” then. Next time you see me, I may have a snout. Oink. Oink.