Tag: dental health

Posted on

Water Flosser Drama and the Case of the Wandering Gum

Written May 28, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Good news first: by the end of yesterday, my knee had stopped throwing tantrums. Maybe it was all the extra TLC—multiple stretching sessions, the elevated position like it was royalty, and me being unusually gentle with my daily tasks. Whatever the reason, this morning it felt… well, not like a brand-new knee, but like a knee that wasn’t mad at me anymore.

Naturally, I decided to run. Not a record-breaking dash, mind you—more like a polite jog. I didn’t hit my target pace, but hey, considering recent negotiations with my joints, I’ll take a “still functioning” over “speed demon” any day.

The day’s next event? A dental pilgrimage to Brentwood with my wife.

Now, my wife is brave in many ways, but when it comes to needles, doctors, or dentists? Imagine a kitten hiding under a blanket. She always says that having me there calms her nerves, makes things smoother. (Which, honestly, might just be her code for “Please chauffeur me and distract me with your soothing sarcasm.”)

The drive was short—just over ten minutes. Our dentist had sent her to a specialist because something felt off with one of her teeth, but nothing obvious showed up on the scan. Cue suspense music.

She was especially nervous because several years ago, she cracked a tooth from grinding in her sleep. Since then, she’s worn a mouthguard nightly like it’s part of her teeth care ritual. Dental anxiety is real—but so is her commitment to oral health. No matter the cost, she keeps those pearly whites in check.

The twist? Turns out she’d been water-flossing like an overzealous fire hose technician. Too often, too strong, and at an angle so aggressive it practically evicted her gum from her tooth. The irony? All that jet-powered effort meant no infection or gum disease. Just an overworked gum waving a white flag.

Naturally, I was paying attention. I also use a water flosser—set to “Hurricane Mode,” apparently—and now I’m wondering if I’ve been power-washing my mouth like it’s a driveway. Lesson learned.

With chronic kidney disease, I’m more prone to infections—including dental ones. A doctor told me that a decade ago, when I was 35 and still blissfully ignorant of the tooth-gum power struggle. These days, I’m borderline obsessive about oral hygiene. My gums are in good shape, thank you very much, and now they’ll stay that way—minus the water-flossing warfare.

Oh, and before we embarked on our dental saga, I took a moment to examine the lawn. Yesterday’s mowing was more “half-hearted swoop” than “precision landscaping,” but today’s glance told me I’m not too far behind. With any luck (and cooperative weather), I should have it looking civilized again by tomorrow—with minimal whining from either my knee or me.

Posted on

When Your Own Body Turns on You: A Tooth Tale

Written April 16, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

I had a dentist appointment yesterday — and let’s just say, I left with more existential dread than dental floss.

Apparently, one of my teeth is being resorbed. That’s right — my body has decided to eat its own tooth. No external villain, no cavity creeping in from the shadows. Just my own biology going, “You know what? Let’s dissolve that one.”

Naturally, I asked if I did something wrong. Too many sour candies? Brushed with existential angst instead of toothpaste? But no — my dentist assured me it’s idiopathic, which is medical-speak for, “We have no clue why this is happening.” Somehow, that’s both comforting and unsettling. Like, hooray, it’s not my fault! But also… why is my body betraying me like this?

So I did what any responsible adult does when faced with vague medical doom: I Googled it. Turns out, internal tooth resorption isn’t as rare as I thought. The dentin and pulp inside the tooth can just break down from within. Sometimes it stops on its own, sometimes it needs a root canal, and sometimes your tooth just… retires early.

The causes? Oh, pick your poison: past trauma, chronic inflammation, overzealous orthodontic adventures, certain medications, radiation therapy, or simply a bad roll of the genetic dice. My wife chimed in to say that sharks don’t have this problem — they just shed and regrow teeth like it’s no big deal. Of course, if we had that system, I imagine our grocery bills would skyrocket (to say nothing of the constant dental redecorating).

The kicker? This whole stealth operation happened between my last dental visit and now. No pain, no warning — just a rogue tooth slowly dissolving in silence. My wife’s on high alert now, mostly because dental issues can complicate things like implants, and with my kidneys being only mildly dramatic, we try to stay ahead of problems.

In a weird way, I’m relieved I didn’t cause it. I’ve been a reasonably well-behaved brusher. But knowing that resorption can strike again at any time, without rhyme or reason? That’s… well, tooth terrorism.

Anyway, the plan is a root canal. They’ll clean out the inside, seal it up, and send the tooth back into retirement with a gold watch and a filling. It’s my first root canal, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Everyone says, “It’s not that bad,” which is exactly what people say about things that are, in fact, a little bad.

To end on a surreal note, my wife once told me about a cat that was allergic to cats. And now, here I am — a human allergic to my own tooth, apparently. Life is strange, bodies are weird, and dentistry remains the only profession where people actively fear chairs.

Wish me luck — and may your molars remain loyal.