Sometimes I wish my mother wouldn’t try to dissuade me from going to the dentist.
I think that’s one way I’ve changed in 2008 . . . comments like that would have normally been the start of a screaming match. She asked me why I wanted to go, and I tell her that one cavity has gotten so big that it cuts me when I run my tongue along it and the pain in my lower left side hasn’t subsided and I’m still having to numb down that area every so often. She looks at me and says “you can’t fix tooth pain”.
Maybe I can’t and I’ll be forced to numb down that area with oral analgesics for the rest of my life, but at least I’ll be sure that it can’t be helped. Maybe my dentist can find out why it’s hurting. I know he can fix that cavity. My mom doesn’t seem to understand that I just had gum surgery and that if I don’t regularly see a dentist, the problems will come back and I’ll be forced to go through that surgery again — and this time with less of a chance at such a good recovery.
But I did not get angry. In nine months, I’ll be 23 and the insurance will be pulled from under me. In fact, after the next oral surgery (I have three more) I’ll be forced to pay out of the pocket anyway. I’ll be on my own so if there’s any portion of my mouth that can be salvaged, I’ll do it. I’m done letting my mother decide what to do with my body because she knows I can’t pay for it myself.
Still, I wish she would at least try to understand . . . .