And in conclusion…

Part 2:

Okay, so it appeared that something terrible was going on in my mouth, and I didn't even know it. My friendly dental hygienist was pretty alarmed, and recommended taking some kind of immediate action. Unfortunately, the action she recommended added up to about $1400 of uninsured dental treatment. Perio therapy, including anesthesia and packing with antibiotics. Plus the bacterial ID test, to find out for sure which antibiotics to use.

$1400. Seriously. Not a filling or crown or any other hardware involved, and still $1400.

It's not that we absolutely don't have the money, and we could pay for it if necessary. And I didn't want to just refuse treatment offhand. The sample DNA results she showed me indicated what type of bacteria, including exactly how transmissible they are. Since Rich and I share a Diet Coke at Stars games and have been known to swap saliva in other ways, too, this was a big red flag. But $1400…I wanted to give it some thought.

And while I was thinking, it occurred to me that this had happened pretty darn suddenly. Why, I asked myself, did it happen? How could it have happened? What changed? I'll admit, I had been a little lackadaisical about flossing for a few days prior to my appointment, but that wouldn't account for such a dramatic change. And surely I would know it if I had been exposed to some new pathogen, right?

Then I thought about Atkins, and the crummy way I had only semi-followed it.

It turned out to be not so far fetched. Googling 'Atkins' and 'perio pockets' got enough hits to make me think there was something to it. Plus there was…well, my hair. It grew. I swear to God, my hair grew at least an inch in the month that included our time on Atkins. All that protein obviously had an effect on me. If it affected my hair, maybe it also affected my gums. Maybe that protein overdose had allowed some normal flora to, I don't know, run rampant or something. So I thought that if I started eating a more balanced diet (bye-bye, Atkins; don't trip over the salad greens on your way out), maybe my gums would respond and the perio pockets would shrink. Before we spent $1400, I decided to give it a try. And, you know, flossing and junk, too. Again, time passed.

Meanwhile, I began to notice an inordinate number of single-use eye drop containers all over the house. They're Optive single-use containers, to be specific, the only eye drop approved for both sensitive eyes (which I have in spades) and contact lens rewetting. Yeah, not that you cared, and it doesn't really have anything to do with our story. Except that the "single-use" containers actually hold about ten drops, so I'll twist off the top of one of them, squeeze a drop into each eye, then tuck the little container back behind something. I don't mind using the drops from an open container a couple of hours later, as long as the tip hasn't touched anything. In the master bathroom, I carefully place it  on the counter behind my makeup mirror.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, I started finding those single-use containers all over the house. They became cat toys and dog chews. The first one, I assumed I had tossed it at the trash can and missed, and one of the animals had found it. But then there was at least one new one every day. And on top of that, I'd go to use the already-opened one I had left, and discover I had apparently thrown it away and not remembered….

Yeah. It took me an embarrassing length of time to make the connection. Rocky, the cat, likes to walk around on the bathroom counter, especially when I'm in the bathroom. It occurred to me that perhaps he likes to walk around on the counter when I'm not in the bathroom, too. He finds the eye drop containers, starts to bat it around, and that's that. So I started putting the open ones inside the medicine cabinet so he can't get to them. Problem solved.

More time passed. I'm still eating more than just protein, flossing like there's nothing but tomorrows and knowing, just knowing, that I'm taking care of the perio problem. I mean, what else could be causing it, right?

Take another look at that photo. Right beside the eyedrop container, you'll notice a toothbrush holder. (Both those toothbrushes are mine. Following our dentist's suggestion, we each have two toothbrushes, one for morning and one for night. Most oral bacteria die within 24 hours, so that gives us a clean, germ-free toothbrush each time.) (See, I wasn't kidding when I said I take care of my teeth.)

Did it occur to me that Rocky could possibly be messing with more than just the eyedrops? Did it even cross my mind? No, it didn't. Until I was brushing my teeth one morning and noticed the back of my toothbrush seemed oddly rough. On examination, it had teethmarks in it. And not from my teeth. He had been chewing on it.

I had been sharing my toothbrush with my cat.

Fortunately, a cat who just had his own teeth cleaned about a month ago, or who knows what I would have ended up catching. From the time that I looked at my toothbrush and it registered what those marks were to the time that I had an appointment to have the bacterial DNA test done was, maybe, ten minutes.

What the counter looks like now

I'm not sure if there's actually any point to this long, long explanation, besides that I'm occasionally kind of a dope, but there are four truths that became evident:

1. Mis-applying Atkins may or may not be bad for your gingiva. I thought I knew, but I don't.
2. Believe your dental hygienist when she tells you there's something going on.
3. Cats have peripheral vision and occasionally act on it.
4. As surely as I know what happens in my mouth, I can't say the same about my cat's.

 Lesson learned. Seriously.