Now, when people of my generation were growing up, and presented the Dental Professional with a profile of "too many teeth and not enough space", the standard response was to start yanking those suckers out to create room. Husband and I both "benefited" from this strategy, each having 4 of our pearly-whites removed in somewhat traumatic childhood operations. However, procedures have changed over the past several...decades...and the 21st-century plan of attack involves: palate expanders. The idea is that--if you start early enough (before age 10)--the roof of the mouth hasn't fully hardened yet, so you can gently push it outward to allow the teeth to fit in, without having to extract any. Thus Derek got a big hunk of metal glued to his upper teeth, stretching across the top of his mouth, moving things slowly across a span of many months. (Um...whoo hoo? Probably better than sacrificing teeth...but still not a whole lot of fun, yeah?) The Orthodontist then bracketed the front teeth only, to hold them in place while the rest of the late-eruptors showed up to the party.
When all of his teeth had at last made an appearance, it was time for the full-mouthful: brackets, wires, rubber bands, the works. We would dutifully make appointments for every 8 weeks or so, and the Orthodontist would poke and prod and tighten. Through all of this, Derek was an absolute trooper. He literally grinned and bore it, even though we got used to planning menus full of "soft foods" for a few days after his visits, since he was sure to have discomfort when chewing. He rarely complained; he followed the rules; and he was sooooo very patient. He even weathered a huge, disappointing "tease"--when the hardware was taken off (yaaayyy!) only to be replaced later for the mysterious "Phase 2" that we had conveniently blocked out of our collective memory way back in the beginning of the process. (boooo!) He stoically endured an extension of his treatment plan, as his original Orthodontist retired, and the doctor who took over wanted to "fine tune some things" before signing off on Derek's smile. During the final few months, he even dealt graciously with tiny rubber bands that he had to wear in triangles between the upper and lower teeth, and which had to be changed each time he ate. (ie: 5 times a day for a growing 12-year old...frankly, these looked like some kind of colorful-yet-sadistic dental torture devices to me, but what do I know? I just write the checks...)
And now, the payoff: perfectly straight, shiny teeth. During his appointment today, he practiced with his retainers...the ones he'd been allowed to design...one orange (Orioles) and one purple (Ravens). The education continued for me, as the hygienist explained that for the first 4 months post-brace, Derek should wear them for 12 hours...a night. I stared at her blankly for a moment while I processed that tidbit. "Um, and during the day?" She shook her head firmly, "No, only at night!" I nodded intelligently to show I understood, but in my head I was giddy with excitement: "You mean he doesn't have to wear them to school, and leave them in a napkin on the lunch table, and throw them away, and search the trash? Like we ALL did at least once during Middle or High School? Yippppeeeee!" It turns out the new recommendation is to wear them while sleeping...forever. Yep, those chompers remember their old positions, and keep wanting to move back, but evidently if you rein them in while you sleep, that's enough to protect your new grin. Okey-dokey, then, we're on board with that!
For the rest of the day, I frequently caught Derek wearing a little smirk, running his tongue over his smooth teeth. He admitted that whenever he ate anything, he habitually kept trying to pick food out of his nonexistent metal-food-trappers. I think it's safe to say he's thrilled to have survived the Metalmouth Years. Just in time, too...since Riley already sports his own expander, and next month will probably get fitted for brackets! Sigh. At least it's one down, one to go, right?
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