Twelve hours after being wheeled into surgery, I drifted back into awareness. It’s over . . . it’s finally over, I don’t have to think about it anymore I thought with relief. And then I held my breath. Did the surgery help? Will I notice a difference? I hesitated, unsure of what I wanted the answer to be. Cautiously, I inhaled. With the tiniest movement of my abdomen, air instantly flooded into my nostrils, rushed down my throat and settled deep into my lungs. My closed eyes snapped open, Oh!!! I’m drowning! In oxygen! Another breath confirmed that indeed, breathing had become an entirely new experience for me. This, I marveled, is how breathing is supposed to feel.
For days, I resented any intrusion that took my attention away from the novel sensation of moving air effortlessly in and out of my lungs. I realized that I’d spent my whole life struggling to perform the most basic of functions . . . breathing. I alternated between sadness for the past and feeling reborn into a new body.
At this point, you rightly may be wondering what this story has to do with Westlake Dental Arts and dentistry.
Well, actually . . . everything. Welcome to the new age of dentistry.
My never-in-a-gazillion-years-would-I-have-expected-this journey started three years ago at a dental examination. Dr. Carson sat back in her chair, her face concerned and her voice firm. “Susan, if we don’t correct your bite you may lose teeth and be looking at implants or dentures in as soon as five years.”
Literally, my jaw dropped. I’d never before heard the words “bad bite” — much less dentures — directed at my mouth. How could this be? I wasn’t anywhere near denture age. Horrified, I envisioned myself sleeping with my teeth resting a nearby glass of water.
Dr. Carson explained that my teeth were eroded in ways that indicated the damage was due to years of clenching and grinding my teeth. (I clench and grind my teeth???) My front teeth were the most fragile. The constant pressure had worn the edges so thin they tended to chip when I used my electronic toothbrush.
Because I’m a scientist and fascinated with physiology, I quizzed Dr. Carson. How did she know I clenched my teeth if I wasn’t aware of it? Why was I clenching? How could I stop it? Were dentures inevitable?
Dr. Carson exhaustively answered each question, delving into facial anatomy, musculature, and the mechanics of biting. I knew just enough to recognize her diagnosis was scientifically solid. To my relief, the solution seemed comfortingly innocuous “I’d like you to see Dr. Hang for an orthodontic evaluation.”
Braces, I thought, that’s not a problem. I made an appointment for the next day.
I expected Dr. Hang to look in my mouth, declare “braces”, and we’d wrap things up in 15 minutes…
Check back for part two!








