I’ve dubbed the Lord & Master the King of Oral Lowgeine, since he’s considered a miracle by his dentist and periodontist. (Though I remained stunned that they once administered an IV during his teeth cleaning.) For well over a decade he’s maintained his oral health by barely brushing and never flossing. “I have a strong gag reflex,” he’s whimpered whenever trying out the latest flossing gizmo I’ve foisted upon him. Of course, a few teeth have fallen by the wayside over the years, replaced by a series of crowns. He’s in need of a new one as I write, though he’s said he’s going to “skip it,” against the advice of our dentist. Soon I’ll have to remind him (as in nag) that the alternative actually will be worse than the annoyance and expense of the procedure.
It’s a testament to the extraordinarily hardworking genes his mother, Old Ironsides, passed on that the L&M has such good dental and heart health. At the ripe of old age of 91, she still had all her choppers – and a full head of hair – and her heart had built its own bypass. (FYI, dental health is directly linked to one’s heart condition. That’s why I, the daughter of a woman who diagnosed her own open heart surgery, brush and floss madly all day long. And take 80 mg of Simvastatin.)
Imagine my post-dinner surprise last night when my hubby casually extracted a KFC spork, their ingenious spoon/fork combo, from its plastic wrap and steadily worked it between his teeth. Then he tenderly replaced it for future use. I guess he found the one dental instrument that doesn’t choke him.
Whatever works, my one of a kind fellow. And hats off to you, Colonel Sanders.