Member-only story
Featured
The Day My Smile Got a Death Sentence (And What I Did Next)
A lesson in regret, self-neglect, and starting again – one tooth at a time.
“You’re going to lose all your teeth. It’s a shame, really. You have a beautiful smile.”
He said it so matter of factly, as if it was the most natural thing.
It was my dentist, cloaked in an impersonal white coat and a frown that seemed carved from stone.
I blinked, trying to process his words from my half-reclined position. His voice was cool, detached – like he was discussing weather patterns, not delivering the slow death of my confidence. I was too stunned to speak at first.
Then I asked, quietly:
“And there’s nothing I can do?”
He didn’t look at me. Just scribbled something on his clipboard.
“No. Not at your age. It’s all downhill from here.”
Not at your age?
Downhill?
My mind scrambled to find meaning. Wasn’t there still time? Weren’t gums like skin – able to bounce back with the right care?
Apparently not.
Gum tissue, he explained without sympathy, doesn’t regenerate. It retreats. And once it’s gone, it stays…
