You must ask questions, compare, and shop around for your dentist. As religion, toothbrushes and money are personal, so is your choosing a dentist. Please keep in mind, this subjective choice will be based on your past experiences which will dictate your current expectations.

My expectations were set at early age, and I have always been terrified of dentists. I recall being taken to Saginaw, Michigan when I was 8 years old to have 4 back molars removed under general anesthesia, because, my dainty little mouth was considered "too small" for all the teeth that were growing inside. I disliked my mum for that until I was almost 9, as she was the one who placed my hand in the dentist's hand ... shame on her!

As an adolescent, I was expected to sit in Dr. Jack Humm's chair for any appointments Mum had made for me after school. He was a no-nonsense man who had zero tolerance for shenanigans and nincompoopery. He would not let me use the bathroom when I asked ... so, I would pee in his chair.

After high school, I married an Ole Navy Boy who, financially speaking, was tighter than a crab's behind (a crab's behind is waterproof, yanno). As far as he was concerned, any money for a dentist was considered a luxury, yet he never missed a good evening out with the boys at the club six nights a week.

After a 9+ pound baby and a 10+ pound baby, my teeth were in very bad shape. My da offered to pay for any dental work I may need. I did no "shopping around"; I just wanted the discomfort gone so I could feel better during waking hours and could sleep at night without taking analgesics.

It took 3 weeks to unsuccessfully come with an excuse to miss the dental appointment. And, as a consequence of my ignorance, several of my teeth were removed and I was introduced to an upper dental appliance (store-bought clackers for the upper jaw). There were months and months of pain and discomfort ... there was no ibuprofen back then of which I was aware, so, only thing to do was keep so busy during waking hours that I just fell asleep for the night due to borderline exhaustion.

In 1978 I was responsible for a horse accident which fractured my right lower jaw in 4 places. After coming-to after about 20 minutes of unconsciousness with slivers from the stall wall imbedded in my back and mis nalgas, and spitting out pieces of broken teeth, my jaws were wired shut for 13 weeks (much to my family's delight), I knew I had to go back to the dentist again.

This time I shopped around. Found one who gave me 3 options for anesthesia. I could do novacaine, novacaine and nitrous oxide, or valium with demoral (twilight sleep). I did the twilight sleep, and it was wonderful! I nodded off, he did what he had to do, I woke up afterward, was driven home where I slept for 48 hours and had no memory whatsoever of sharp/dull instruments, sounds of a drill or crunches from an extractor, or seeing a drop of my blood dangling from a half-moon needle as parts of my jaws were stitched closed.

Then, in 2001 I had to go back to the dentist again. This time for the lower teeth that remained. I had gone on a personal adventure to Mexico in 1992. My flight left early, my heart doesn't beat until noon, and I had neglectfully left the lower dental appliance behind. (This lower dental appliance was a partial bridge, and, like the stars, it came out each night.)

Consequently, after 3 years of living in a foreign country, there was a lower spread problem and had to eat everything as a rabbit would (What a beauty I must have been, eh?). When I came back home due to Mum's failing health, I knew I had to get to a dentist soon. This time I really shopped around. Found a great dentist who gave me several options. I could have another partial constructed, I could have ALL the lower teeth extracted and use a lower dental appliance, or I could keep what was there and have implants that would keep the bone from deteriorating and still have a chin. (If one does take steps to retain the lower jaw, the bone mass deteriorates rapidly and one may resemble Mammy Yokum where one's chin and the end of one's nose meet is difficult to distinguish.)

Hmm ... decisions.

Of course, I wanted to keep my chin to prove I'm not from an inbred family, but how much was it going to hurt and how much was it going to cost me?

I opted for the 3 titanium implants to keep my chin, which drained my savings of $10,000. As for the pain? Not a problem, with the vicodin and valium. And, after shopping around properly this time, and many thanks to Dr. Alan Anderson and Ron Johnson, Denturist, of Vancouver (these two work as a team, certified for implant stuff), I now have a beautiful smile, no more pain, will always have my chin, and only a little bit of plaque. If only I had been smarter from the get-go and had not listened to that Ole Navy Boy! [smile]

~Nan, 2008