Orthodonture

Dr. Murray Ackerman was my (and my brother’s) orthodontist. His office, which was located in his basement, was down the road and behind my house on Bolmer Avenue. It’s where all the children at Emerson School went to  get their braces.

Dr. Ackerman’s office was managed by his wife Rhoda. I disliked them both—but I probably hated Dr. Ackerman a little bit more because he inflicted psychological abuse along with the physical torture. Mrs. Ackerman—Rhoda—on the other hand--- was just an unpleasant person who viewed all the children with dollar signs in her eyes.

And because I did not like Dr. Ackerman very much my compliance was not at the level it should have been. I made it my mission to stealthfully aggravate him. I faked wearing my night brace by attaching a rubber band to the hooking device to fool everyone into thinking I was wearing it correctly when I was not. And I also had a habit of playing with the bracket inside my mouth with my tongue for amusement purposes. The habitual stress my tongue put on the hardware almost always loosened it and then Dr. Ackerman would yell at me---and by yell I do not mean scold---I mean he raised his voice loudly so the entire waiting room could hear. Often he would call my mother in if she happened to be in the waiting room and he would get nasty with her for not doing her job properly.

But I remained respectful until I was around fourteen years old and Dr. Ackerman accused me of not wearing my retainer. He accused me of ruining all his skilled efforts. But the truth of the matter was that I actually did wear my retainer faithfully but despite doing so, the retainer stopped fitting properly. So when he screamed at me (likely as a rhetorical question) What am I supposed to do now? I could no longer sit back and take the abuse any longer—so I screamed back how am I supposed to know? You’re the orthodontist!!

I thought he was going to have a stroke.

So my mother was called in and she made me apologize. And the entire ride home from Yonkers to Dobbs Ferry (we had moved by that point) was a living hell. But the aftermath was that my mother was so mortified, we never went back.

But for years I lived with the guilt that the shifting of my teeth was all my fault. I had wasted my parents money. I should have continued wearing my retainer even though it never fit properly.

But when I turned 29 or 30 I became a patient of a high end dentist in Rockville Center. He asked me if I had ever had braces. And I guiltily said yes but that my non-compliance had caused the shifting of my teeth. And he burst out laughing. And I was puzzled---I did not think my tale was that funny. So I asked what him what was so humorous.

And Dr. Kaylor said You have a double cross bite. The only treatment that might have helped was a palate expander—which was only invented in the 1980’s. And even with that, there may not have not been any correction anyway. The only cure for your condition is surgery. The reason your retainer stopped fitting was because your jaw was still growing. No retainer would ever have prevented your teeth from shifting.

I felt as though the world had been lifted off of my shoulders. I was completely vindicated---although my parents were positively robbed.

  

And years later, when my middle daughter Briana, after 6 years of orthodontic care—including 2 years of a palate expander, 2 years of full metal braces and 2 years with a retainer—not to mention several endodontic and extraction procedures in between--was told she needed to put full metal braces back on in 9^th grade, it gave me pause. And I asked the orthodontist Why? And I was told her jaw was still growing and that her bottom incisor might rotate. The new braces might maintain her perfect smile.
 

And to the orthodontist’s total surprise I said No more braces. We have done enough.

And the dentist I have now by far is my favorite. I gave up the high priced guy in Rockville center---he was too high priced. And my current dentist, by simply using a file, rounded the edges of my teeth such that they appear straighter--no devices of torture were necessary. My smile is in no way aesthetically or socially displeasing.

And unless you pull my daughter’s bottom lip down you cannot notice the rotation of her one lower incisor. Her one crooked tooth is something she reveres. For her (and me) her one non-conformist bottom right bony calciferous structure is a symbol of independence—a guilt-free battle scar from a  child warrior who would no longer submit to continued torture. And I am proud that she understands that she (and her smile) is perfect---with or without a rotated incisor.