My kid's been blessed with a little something extra.
Frankly, I know exactly where he gets it - straight from his mama.
"What is this gift?" you might ask. "What is this unique thing that she believes separates her child from most other children? Is it his staggering good looks, his impressive intellect, his superior dancing ability?"
Well of course as his mother, I do believe my child has all of those special things... but then again, so do the other darling children we know. With over a decade of teaching under my belt, I've never me a child I didn't think was gifted and beautiful in some unique way.
No... this thing that separates my kid from all the rest (at least for today) would be:
His teeth.
Specifically the two extra ones.
The third set of teeth he has growing in his mouth at this very moment, right between his baby teeth and his permanent teeth.
They're right there, hovering just underneath those perfect straight front baby teeth of his... lurking like sharks. Those darn teeth.
Having an extra set of teeth is not that common, although it isn't freakishly rare either. Teeth like this are called "supernumerary teeth" which just means that there are more of them than the kid is supposed to have in his or her mouth.
And yes, as mentioned before, my lucky little guy gets this problem from me.
Friends who have known me since the fourth grade may remember a time when I also had extra teeth growing in my mouth... and at the time, it really didn't seem like a big deal to me. I actually thought it was pretty cool that I had "extra" teeth and I can recall having them extracted at my sister's orthodontist's office with just a local anesthetic. I don't know exactly how old I was at the time... somewhere between the ages of 8 and 10. Maybe younger.
They just pulled those puppies out - and boy, they were long! I can still remember looking at the roots in awe, as they were twice as long as the rest of the baby teeth I was losing at a normal rate.
The tooth fairy's typical gift in those days was in the range of 25 cents per tooth - but for those extra teeth, she brought me a dollar each. I remember thinking that was pretty cool and wishing I had a few more extra teeth to take out.
And that was that.
So when my son's first pediatric dentist told us, three years ago, that his x-rays showed two supernumerary teeth, I laughed out loud. "Awesome!" I told my son. "It must be hereditary!"
"We'll have to pull them out, probably when he turns six years old," his then-dentist told me.
"Oh sure, no problem!" I responded, and then began to think about what inflation might have done to the Tooth Fairy's largess over 25 years. "I wonder how much she pays these days for a single tooth?"
* * * * * * *
Three years later (and approximately three weeks ago) I took my boys in for their annual dentist checkup using the brand-spanking-new dental insurance we FINALLY got for our family. I wondered if they would have cavities, or if my younger son would be frightened as they cleaned his teeth for the first time.
At the end of the appointment, the dentist - all smiles and welcome to his practice - told me what a GREAT JOB my sons had done, how GOOD their teeth looked, how GLAD he was to meet us... and that oh, my son wouldn't need his surgery for another year because his baby teeth were not ready to fall out yet.
"Okay," I said, "and you can pull those out with a local anesthetic, right?"
Suddenly brakes were screeching all over the road of his pearly white smile.
"Well actually," he responded, "No. We use a general anesthesia for that process. However I've done it hundreds of times and it's really not a big deal."
"Not a big deal, other than the normal risks of general anesthesia," I responded. "Is there another way?"
"Well, that is the way we do it here," he said. "But if you are uncomfortable we can do the procedure at Children's Hospital with a trained anesthesiologist in the room."
"With a local?"
"No, still with general anesthesia."
"The thing I don't understand," I began... and then went into a description of my own extra set of teeth, which burst right through the roof of my mouth and were extracted with no general anesthesia. "How could that have been possible 25 years ago, in the '80s, and not available today with all of the technological advances we've made?
"Well, general anesthesia isn't as risky as it was back then," he replied. "I'm not really sure how they did that."
Hmmmmmmmmm.....
("You mean, malpractice lawsuits were less likely back then?" I wanted to say.)
We went back and forth another few rounds, unable to find common ground.
"You can always decide not to do the surgery," he said, "but then your son's smile will look funny for life."
"Yes, I see your point," I responded. "But at least I would still have a son."
My irrational mom-fear of general anesthesia had me in its tight grip, and there really wasn't much he could say to dissuade me from the conviction that a local anesthetic would work just fine, thank you very much.
"Thanks for your time," I smiled politely.
"Nice to meet you," he smiled politely. We shook hands. I could almost hear the judgment in his head coming at me, but I didn't care. I was determined to find another way.
* * * * * * *
Ten telephone calls to dentists and oral surgeons throughout Southern California later, discouragement started to set in.
Every single practice I spoke with said the same thing. "General anesthesia. IV sedative. Unconscious."
With every call, I said the same thing: "Thanks for your time."
"What do they say, mommy?" asked my son nervously.
"Oh honey, they say that mommy is being silly and that putting you to rest for a few minutes while they pull your teeth will be relaxing and easy for you. They say that mommy is a worry-wart."
At last I found a pediatric orthodontist who trained at several Ivy League schools in pediatric dentistry and orthodontics. "Dr. James* will consult with your son for free, a complimentary consultation," explained his assistant. "He will take a free set of x-rays, and then give you his diagnosis which may differ from that of your dentist."
"Great!" I agreed, grasping at straws. I realized that this Dr. James would likely want to sell me some product or procedure but either way, I wanted a highly qualified opinion about the surgery and anesthesia.
"I hope this dentist will say I can stay awake, mommy."
"Honey, either way, you're going to be fine."
Weeks elapsed. My son and I allowed ourselves to forget about the diagnosis, his need for surgery, the anesthesia. Ignorance is bliss, and we waded in it happily.
* * * * * * *
Yesterday however, the calendar alerted us to our appointment with Dr. James.
Together with his little sister, my son and I ventured forth into the land of private orthodontics.
Wow.
This was a very eye-opening adventure.
The orthodontist worked in one of the nicest buildings I have ever seen - exquisite architecture... very modern, full of fountains. Super posh.
His office was the most child friendly place I've been outside of an actual school, definitely the most well thought out pediatric office I've ever seen. Instead of a main lobby or waiting room, the front door opened onto a narrow space with many alcoves, in the center of which was one giant fish tank. Along one hallway was a tooth brushing bar for young patients, complete with brand new toothbrushes and toothpastes, along with a wide mirror for little children to look at themselves in while brushing their teeth. To the right of the entrance, a playroom enclosed in soundproof glass complete with DVD/video and playstation technology along with lots of books and puzzles.
The head assistant, Margo, beckoned my daughter and I into a fancy front alcove showing off the dentist's many distinguished degrees ~ and it was pretty clear from the get-go that this was going to be the scene of the sales pitch. Handing my daughter a coloring book and pens which she just 'happened' to have in her desk, the woman began to put together a very thick folder for me of information.
She then took my son to get a complimentary set of x-rays (including the one pictured above) and when those photos were complete, we awaited the arrival of the pediatric dentist/orthodontist. They actually kept us waiting for some time, and as we were the only clients in the office, I had the sense that it was part of their pitch.
At last the gentleman of the hour arrived, and we began in earnest to hear why my son not only needs oral surgery complete with general anesthesia but also a very complex and expensive set of expanders, retainers and three years worth of follow up appointments, starting as soon as possible. To the tune of $5200. Not including cost of the actual oral surgery which would need to be performed elsewhere.
"We just want to make sure you understand, though, that doing this won't necessarily mean that he doesn't need to have braces when he hits around 12 or 13. This would be a start... and then we'd take a break, and then we'll see."
"Okay. And what would happen if we just let nature take its course?"
"Well, if we were living in Appalachia 30 years ago, your son might end up with the second set of teeth protruding from the top or bottom of his palate and when they busted through, they would need to be pulled out.
However, these extra teeth have already turned one of his permanent teeth to the side, so you are probably looking at needing braces when the permanent teeth come in anyway."
"Hmmmm... What do you suggest for young families who live in present day California yet cannot afford to pay thousands of dollars for orthodontic care for their five year old children?"
"Oh, don't worry, we have payment plans for that. Margo* will go over those with you."
Indeed, for the next twenty minutes Margo did go over a variety of payment plans with me. Thankfully, unlike the story of Rumpelstiltskin, none of them actually involved giving my firstborn child away!
Two hours after first arriving in the luxurious orthodontic office, after having undergone their full court press, my children and I at last made our way back into bright daylight. Restless and hungry, my kids wanted to get lunch. Tired and anxious about money, I wanted to curl up into a ball.
One of the many things I've discovered about being an adult is that sometimes you look for the 'better' option and there just isn't one. You find yourself standing between a rock and a hard place.
"Did the doctor say I don't have to go to sleep, Mommy?"
"Honey, I'm not sure yet what we'll do about your extra teeth but the one thing I can promise you is that you are the most important thing to us and we'll do whatever is safest and healthiest for you. We'll keep researching until we know we're making the very best choice we can."
"But I don't WANT them to make me rest mommy. I want to be awake when they take my teeth out. I don't want them to take my teeth out at all. Why can't I just keep all of them? Why can't I just stay like I was made?"
In the end, this is perhaps the most poignant question of all.
Why indeed do we live in a plastic society where it could be awful for my son to walk around as a teenager with two sets of front teeth... or a permanent front tooth that turned fully to its side? Why is perfection so important to us, especially perfection in a smile? Why will it make such a difference to my son's future and his potential success to have gleaming, straight, pearly white teeth?
What would his life have been like 200 years ago, were he to grow up with exactly the same situation? Would he have been considered a freak or an oddball, thanks to his extra teeth? And I suppose the same question applies to me too... what would my life have been like had my parents not agreed to let the orthodontist extract my own 'extra' teeth when I was a kid. Would it have affected my career? My love life? My marriage?
In the end, it doesn't seem right that we have to pay a substantial amount of money and apparently put our son's life and health at minor risk just to correct an aesthetic problem; to remove some part of my son's natural body that he was born with... a rare feature programmed into his genetic code that makes him a little different, a little special.
Are we playing God? Is it right to physically alter a child for such superficial reasons? I don't like it. Not at all.
For lack of a wittier ending... the situation really bites.
*Name changed to protect the privacy of the parties in question.
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