<p>I’ve reached this venerable – or is it vulnerable – age when I’ve had to trot off to my dentist and accept the fact that I can no longer hide behind the myth of managing mastication of old age culinary fancies with decayed stumps of grinders beyond recourse of saving. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Hence, the only option was to have them extracted while there was still some visible protrusion – to avoid intrusions like gum cutting – and settle for a denture to replace six uppers, four on the left and two on the right! Thankfully the remaining teeth are my own, though needless to say, some are capped. <br /><br />It’s not that I’m an octogenarian or even septuagenarian; an age bracket of folks with whom I always associated dentures. I’m a mere 66 or ‘clickety-click’, to use the ‘Housie’ parlance! Now even more, I figured, after acquiring my new dental device. I was under the impression it would be just that; a misfit in my mouth which a close friend reminds me, never stays closed and goes ‘yakety yak’ with garrulous advancing age. <br /><br />My fears were allayed, I must admit, as the denture is light, easy and a perfect fit. It is vastly different from the clumsy set my dad called his ‘take out teeth’, shoving them in and out of his mouth with alacrity like a party prop on occasion to amuse his grandchildren! Bless you dad for managing uncomplainingly half a century ago. My denture, contrastingly, is comfortable to wear, has not interfered with ‘That Certain Smile’ and poses no problem when I eat, nor affects the taste of food. <br /><br />There was one hurdle, however. While the dear dentist with her genteel manner was demonstrating to me the technique of insertion, which I could manage without effort, it was the removal of the prosthetic that proved my bugbear. <br /><br />Being arthritic, with miserably incapable and deformed fingers totally lacking in strength, I was using just the right hand and not the left one – which is incapable of stretching similarly, owing to restricted elbow and shoulder joint mobility. Hence, I was trying to coax her to let me ease out the denture with the obtuse rear end of a tweezer. <br /><br />She considered this the weirdest suggestion ever, but I convinced her it would work without damaging either my gum or the denture. Eureka, it did! We, Persons with Disability (PWDs), are innovative especially in India. Glad to mention anyway, that within a few days of use and trial to extract the denture with my hand, I’ve mastered the art and mustered the strength, hence discarded the tweezer. <br /><br /></p>
<p>I’ve reached this venerable – or is it vulnerable – age when I’ve had to trot off to my dentist and accept the fact that I can no longer hide behind the myth of managing mastication of old age culinary fancies with decayed stumps of grinders beyond recourse of saving. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Hence, the only option was to have them extracted while there was still some visible protrusion – to avoid intrusions like gum cutting – and settle for a denture to replace six uppers, four on the left and two on the right! Thankfully the remaining teeth are my own, though needless to say, some are capped. <br /><br />It’s not that I’m an octogenarian or even septuagenarian; an age bracket of folks with whom I always associated dentures. I’m a mere 66 or ‘clickety-click’, to use the ‘Housie’ parlance! Now even more, I figured, after acquiring my new dental device. I was under the impression it would be just that; a misfit in my mouth which a close friend reminds me, never stays closed and goes ‘yakety yak’ with garrulous advancing age. <br /><br />My fears were allayed, I must admit, as the denture is light, easy and a perfect fit. It is vastly different from the clumsy set my dad called his ‘take out teeth’, shoving them in and out of his mouth with alacrity like a party prop on occasion to amuse his grandchildren! Bless you dad for managing uncomplainingly half a century ago. My denture, contrastingly, is comfortable to wear, has not interfered with ‘That Certain Smile’ and poses no problem when I eat, nor affects the taste of food. <br /><br />There was one hurdle, however. While the dear dentist with her genteel manner was demonstrating to me the technique of insertion, which I could manage without effort, it was the removal of the prosthetic that proved my bugbear. <br /><br />Being arthritic, with miserably incapable and deformed fingers totally lacking in strength, I was using just the right hand and not the left one – which is incapable of stretching similarly, owing to restricted elbow and shoulder joint mobility. Hence, I was trying to coax her to let me ease out the denture with the obtuse rear end of a tweezer. <br /><br />She considered this the weirdest suggestion ever, but I convinced her it would work without damaging either my gum or the denture. Eureka, it did! We, Persons with Disability (PWDs), are innovative especially in India. Glad to mention anyway, that within a few days of use and trial to extract the denture with my hand, I’ve mastered the art and mustered the strength, hence discarded the tweezer. <br /><br /></p>
