This entry is an update of the post Pulling Teeth.

I was riding my bike to school at Sacred Heart in Texas. I hit a loose piece of asphalt, hit the ground, broke a tooth, went to the dentist, got a filling, and was fine until thirteen years later when the filling came out. There were problems with other teeth breaking. It wasn’t a matter of hygiene, just rotten luck.

A doctor at VCU Dental Care in Richmond said the dreaded word: dentures. I went to a local clinic where they took X-rays. The lady told me that I could keep four of my teeth. They weren’t able to do the actual pulling, so she referred me to Affordable Dentures in a strip mall in Lynchburg.

Don’t let the slick commercials fool you–Affordable Dentures is terrible. They pulled my teeth with zero consultation. The four teeth I was supposed to be able to keep disappeared in the process of physical torment.

When I went in for the fitting, there was also no consultation. Of course, the insurance only covered the cheapest set they made. I was perfectly prepared to take some dough out of my savings to get something nicer. But, they never asked.

As I sat in the big dentist chair, I could hear the guy on the other side of the curtain getting his teeth pulled. It was like torture all over again, listening to the poor guy.

I was pretty pollyanna about getting the false teeth installed–I thought I’d be immediately able to go to the nearby McDonald’s and munch on a big mac. The dentures came off before I got to the main road.

During the first few weeks, I diligently installed the dentures as often as I could stand. I never got the right amount of adhesive. It was always difficult to get them off. It wasn’t like a slab of plastic on the roof of my mouth, it was a slab of plastic on the roof of my mouth.

With the dentures in, I could barely consume liquids, and any kind of food was out of the question. Isn’t that the whole point of getting dentures…to eat? An associate told me that her husband could eat steak with no teeth. I doubt I’ll ever be in that club.

The dentures do look good, though. If I ever go on a “date” again, I’ll wear the teeth to make a good impression, but in the car ride to the fancy restaurant, I’ll have to explain that I need to strip my mouth down to the gums.