Note: See last two posts, for which this is a follow-up.

I was wrong. My next dental appointment was today at 9 AM. Tuesday, not Monday. . .

Home now, feeling immensely satisfied.

All weekend long I had been kvetching; should I just cancel it? Should I go and do what he wants to do (clean my teeth)? But Dr. Ellie says teeth need the (slightly slimy) “biofilm” that’s on them, so shouldn’t be cleaned.

Hmmm. Should I go and, hopefully, mostly talk with him?

I didn’t want to just cancel. I’m not into cancel culture. Think it rude. To me, it’s axiomatic: treat others as people, not as functionaries, no matter what their role happens to be which, in this case, involves a financial transaction as well as big philosophical decisions on what dental care I want going into the future.

But I was constantly tempted to cancel! To just forgetaboutit.

And I’m so very glad I did not.

The minute I walked in the door, it was obvious he and his receptionist wife had been undergoing their own transformation. The weird, defensive atmosphere was gone. Instead, welcoming. They were fully prepared for whatever!

I wanted to go and have another, deeper conversation with him, if possible. And to ask just where the tartar buildup was, and do I really need to have it scraped off now?

 

At first I spoke with her, told her how I almost canceled, but didn’t want to, given that we are all human beings. On and on. Said I wanted to continue with Dr. Ellie’s protocol for now, despite the tartar (calculus) build-up — which he told me today, is on front and back of front bottom teeth, the very ones for which he had, probably five years ago, expertly fashioned some kind of a permanent prosthetic, to “fix” the hole where the tooth had fallen out.

It turns out that the bottom front teeth tartar buildup is also where saliva inters the mouth.

He and I did end up deep in conversation, both about my own confusion, and his. My dentist is now 70 years old, and his own dad had also been a dentist, the “old school” kind, he said.

Most of what we talked about had to do with the saliva, and how it’s deeply and complexly interwoven into to the entire bodily ecosystem. Yes, he confirmed, my tartar buildup was caused by too much alkalinity — the opposite, too much acidity, would lead to cavities; how to get it to be slightly less than now? And moreover should I have him scrape off the existing tartar (calculus)?

We talked about the fact, he said, that the blood always wants to be slightly alkaline (just very slightly!), and will go to any lengths to achieve that — including robbing calcium from the bones.

I eat lots of meat. He said maybe change that somewhat.

Hmmm. (Gemini AI)

Okay, it looks like that theory is “old school.” My dentist kind of (and I think he would agree) straddles the line between old and “new.”

It was a fascinating conversation, and I wish I had taped it, to go over it, sentence by sentence. Because truly, this business about the mouth, and how it feeds into everything else, has me hooked. I want to know more, more!

I told him the four-step protocol of Dr. Ellie, and he says he basically agrees with it. Told him also, that it is so weird that I put away all the Dr. Ellie stuff before anyone comes to visit me. (Example: What? you use Crest anti-cavity toothpaste which has fluoride in it?)

We talked for about 35 minutes

To the question of whether or not he should scrape off the tartar on and between the front teeth:

Him: “Should we try an experiment?”

Me, of course: “YES!”

We agreed that I would continue Dr. Ellie’s protocol (and further refine my approach to it) for the next four months, and see him again then. Meanwhile, I would eat slightly less meat and instead, more eggs, cheese, nuts. Because of course, at 83, I need to be pushing protein, to continue to build muscle, which would be wasting away without continuous replenishment.

Oh yeah, he did say that this idea of eating less meat was “old school . . .” And he too confesses to being confused as to what’s really going on.

We briefly discussed the role of genetics in mouth health; his brother, a biochemist, says everything is due to genetics. Both of us disagreed.

What was so cool: this discussion, far deeper than before, and with give and take on both sides, was, to me, deeply satisfying. We ended with a big hug.

I insisted on paying, even though he didn’t touch my mouth.

The charge: $50, though his receptionist wife suggested that I might at least get the tartar scraped off, to make the charge worth it.

Oh no.

It was well worth it.