“What did you do for fun this summer?” a friend recently asked me.
“Well... I’ve been going to the dentist,” I replied. “And going to hear live bluegrass, and trail running...”
“Seriously... the dentist... fun?”
Labeling the dentist as a recreational activity is a stretch, I know.
The painful fact that the price-tag for my decade of oral neglect equaled the purchase of a drift boat or a mountain bike or a good horse forced me to kid myself into believing that I’d much rather spend one afternoon a week at the dentist than tooling around the Martinsdale Reservoir in a new kayak.
For the last 10 or so years, I’ve been in denial. I honestly thought that I was one of the rare, chosen few that would have perfect, healthy teeth for my entire life. Brushing my teeth has always been one of my few obsessive-compulsive tendencies that I knew could really pay off in a positive way.
I thought I was a responsible teeth owner. As long as you brush often and floss every now and then, who needs a dentist... right?
The first 28-some cavity-free years of my life gave me a big head. It really did appear that I could eat, drink, and be merry without any ill side effects.
Unfortunately, the last 10-year stretch of adventure-seeking and outdoor-recreating was rough on my pearly whites. Looking back on it all now gives me an instant toothache.
“Do you eat a lot of sugar without brushing and rinsing and flossing?” the dentist asked me as I sat in his chair stunned, staring at the bright red spots dotting the profile of my choppers on the computer screen.
“No,” I responded, thinking of my neurotic need to brush. But then I thought harder. “Well, except for when I hiked the Appalachian Trail for 6 months... and when I was mushing and my hands were covered with beaver blood and dog crap germs and I couldn’t wash up, I rarely flossed...”
“I see...” the dentist responded. His hygienist gave a nervous laugh as if she was hoping I was in the midst of telling some strange, tasteless joke.
Working in Indianapolis, this was probably the first time they ever heard that excuse for not flossing.
Sitting in the dental chair, my entire dental life flashed before my eyes.
At all of the AT post office drops from Portland to Maine, I’d rip open the box of provisions my mom mailed out every 10 days to 2 weeks. I filled my backpack with dried pasta and rice dishes, and dozens of Snickers and Reese’s and Kit Kat’s.
Hiking 10 to 20-some miles a day requires some serious calories. I took total advantage of one of the few times in my entire life that I could eat 2 candy bars with every meal and still lose weight.
And then on the snowy trail mushing dogs, I gnawed on frozen, rock-hard hunks of dark chocolate like a dog going at a fresh deer leg. I cut holes in frozen Capri Sun juice pouches and sucked on the sugar ice for my liquids.
And worst of all - something that makes my gums throb with guilt - were the gummies.
I once was a gummy addict. I craved Sour Patch Kids, chocolate-covered gummy bears, Swedish Fish. Before a long trail run, I stuffed the pockets of my running shorts with handfuls of gummy worms - what I once considered the perfect endurance food. I washed it all down with sports drinks.
Thankfully, my eating habits have done an about face these last few years. I no longer eat any candy - not even those tempting red and green worms. Even out on the trails, I eat mostly whole, real foods like fruits and veggies, beans and rice, nuts and dates for dessert. And I wash it all down with cool, clear water.
Now that I am finally eating healthy, I thought that I was healthy.
I was stunned the May morning that I woke up at my parents’ house in Indy with a pounding toothache. Actually, it took me days to admit the pain was really coming from my teeth.
Karen Land doesn’t get toothaches - her teeth are perfect.
Well, the truth is Karen Land did have a toothache. And a tooth that needed a root canal. And 5 more cavities. After too many years of eating junk, not caring for my teeth properly, and avoiding the dentist, I was forced to eat crow - and then brush and floss and rinse afterward.
Thankfully, my new dentist and his team are all kind, interesting, and funny people; I did enjoy seeing them every week.
Instead of getting the kayak I wanted, I took my summer vacation at a dentist’s office in suburban Indianapolis.
Ouch! That hurts.
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