This turned out quite long, so if you are after the conclusion, go straight there

Preface

Years ago I went to have an evaluation by an orthodontist, because my tooth had started to shift. He prodded, looked, measured and concluded that to fix my issues will take about two years and a few thousands of dollars, thank you. For various reasons I never went ahead with the proposed plan.

My tooth continued to shift. The poor fella has had a rough go. I fell on it while it was growing and it broke in half; thankfully it grew to the proper size. Then it had bone issues, which basically caused the shifting. Fine. I dealt with that for the last 1.5 years.

Now with the impending possibility of the trip, all sorts of dormant issues are coming to a head and requesting to be dealt with. My wonky tooth being one of them. I had postponed sorting it out, just because it was in the too hard, too expensive bucket , and that one always gets looked at only when absolutely necessary.

It was time to get my bony appendage back to its proper place, because as much as I am not after perfection, its just not looking right and it is bugging me. I looked around at other people’s stories, experiences and pictures. It seemed that it should be possible to swing the tooth back in place in a few months and then I can be given a retainer or even a permanent brace to a tooth nearby and I can go on our trip bucktoothless and not have to worry about it shifting further.

The Search

Finding out an orthodontist was about as easy as…finding an orthodontist. Usually before you hire someone, you go see them, talk to them, have a quick handshake, something. With these guys an initial appointment costs about $150. I cannot afford to check a few out, their interviews are just way too expensive, so I was looking for forum discussions, stories, recommendations online and hoping to pick the right one from the first go. Nothing.

One day I just had enough and picked up the phone and called a few offices. Most had months of waiting before you can even go talk to the orthodontic gods, so they can charge you a hefty sum for the pleasure. My available choices rapidly narrowed into a claustrophobic tunnel and I just decided that the first one I can get in to see, will have to be it, as I had no time to waste.

This is where Dr.Siva Vasudavan enters my life. The woman on the other end of the line tells me that he can see me in a few days and my tunnel lead me to his office. I searched for information about him and it was not much. On his website there is a bit of hype about his work with the Starlight Foundation and volunteering for a program „Give a Smile” which helps people that cannot afford orthodontic work and that made me optimistic that I will be meeting an a person that is comparatively understanding and with a warm heart.

Arriving

The place is big and new with flashy exterior and it quickly gives me the wrong vibe. I reassure myself that this does not necessarily mean that its all business and no human touch. Remember…the book…its cover. Relax. The lady behind the desk is kind and lovely. There is nobody else there, but me and the two women that work there. Its obvious they have opened recently.

I go through the FOUR long pages of questions. I wondered why do they care about my hobbies, occupation or a complete list of names, dates and such for my children and various other things that are not even remotely connected with my teeth. Later on I am told by a friend that they use it to market to you, while the occupations give them a good gauge of your income level and thus they know how much they can get out of you. True or not, I felt happy I didnt spill my guts in the form. It felt way too prodding and invasive and thankfully, I listened to my gut.

Introduction

My form is taken to his office and he shows up after awhile — a young man with a wide smile. Quickly he asks if I was referred to him and when I say I was advised by my perio to get treatment he tells the nurse, I suppose, to do the x-rays that I dont have. There were no discussions, I had not even sit down yet, no explanations, nothing. I was pawned to the girl, lovely and kind, for the x-ray. I knew I needed new one anyway, so I went with the flow, but I definitely didnt feel in good hands. It was all too clinical and somewhat weird. The place is huge with a lot of empty dental chairs, waiting to be filled. Its quiet and ghostly with exception of the fancy plasma TV in the waiting room that breaks the uncomfortable silence. Its just me, the two women and Vasudavan. He behaves as though there are numerous patients and work waiting for him and gives me just as much attention.

I am led to the office and finally sit down across the doctor.

…to be continued.

The ‘consultation’

He grins widely, maybe too much. Then he asks me what is it that I am after, or some words to this effect. I am eager to be truthful and straightforward, because I had the memory of my last orthodontic appointment and I know I cannot take on such a commitment at this time.

- Basically, my main concern is this one tooth. That is what is important for me to fix and since I am going on a long trip in about 6 months, I am interested in whether its possible to move it back to its place in that time and then I can be given retainers, or whatever you deem best, to keep it there while I am traveling. The other area that I would like to fix is the small space between those two teeth here — and I pointed to the x-ray — but this is not that important and only if it can be done in this time frame.

I wanted to make it clear from the beginning what are my constraints and what I am after, because I didnt want him to go on and draw some elaborate plan only for me to spawn it on him that I dont have the time to go through with it. I felt it was only fair to save him the time and effort.

He indicates that what I am after is possible and goes through my x-ray in detail — what teeth have erupted, the one that is missing, the one that is impacted and will never show up and so forth. I am not sure why we are going through it so elaborately, but go along thinking that he knows what he is doing.

Then he asks that I sit on the exam chair and I get up and walk over there. While I am doing this he finishes his sentence with something like:

-…to check your symmetry and [something facial something].

I sit down and a bit confused ask him what is the purpose of that. He seems perplexed by my question and mumbles something about how the examination will evaluate my facial symmetry and bite.

- O..K..and you can do something about my facial symmetry in 6 months? — I am still unsure why this is even necessary and how can putting my tooth back do anything about my facial features.

Uncomfortable pause again.

- Well…hm…no — he looks down on me.

- So why is this evaluation necessary, since I cant do anything about it?

- Well.. — he steps back and still looks perplexed — you may not be able to do anything about it now.. but you may return from your trip and decide that you want to fix any other issues we may find.

I gave up trying to figure out the reasoning behind this push and just assumed he had to do something to justify this quite expensive conversation and just let him do it. Just how ridiculous the whole thing was became quite apparent to me when he was measuring with a tiny ruler the imperfections of my teeth and calling numbers to his assistant, who was keying them in my online file.

My midline is 1mm off and my top teeth are off 2mm from the bottom. This may sound all scientific and important to some, but the fact of the matter is that I couldnt care any less about this. Seriously, I can safely say that I have not ever looked in the mirror in horror with my slightly misaligned teeth and I will not spend a second worrying about it now that I have the professional stamp of diagnosis of imperfect teeth.

But he insisted this was a good idea and I hoped it is somehow related to what it is that I wanted from him, clearly expressed by me the moment we started this exercise.

We sit back on our ends of the desk and he starts to explain what his plan is. We put this there, this there, close this gap, move this here — the pen is flying across the picture of my teeth on the screen like a conductor. I listen and try to take it all in, but somehow it doesnt fit in.

- And you can do all that in 6 months? — I ask surprised with owe.

- …Nnno, not in six months — he rests in his chair — probably about 9 or 12 months.

- Right, but I dont have that much time. — I say and wonder if I am seriously wondering if I am speaking the same language as him at this time.

We keep on going to and fro and I feel like I am swimming against the current. I repeat a few times that its not important to me to fix everything at this time, I just want to get my tooth back in its place and any extra that can be done in 6 months is just a bonus, but definitely not something I am after at this moment. He keeps on, offering elaborate solutions, which quickly fade into the realm of magic world as soon as I ask if they can be done in SIX MONTHS.

Finally, he realizes that maybe I mean what I say and blurts:

- Well, before we can do anything you need to have surgery!

My head spins even further in this monologue dressed as consultation and my jaw drops.

- Surgery?!

- Yes. You need to have this impacted tooth out — and points to the x-ray. There is no more wide smile on his face.

- Why? — I am still trying to acclimatise to the news.

- Because when we start to move the teeth, the roots of the teeth above it may break/crack [something] on it.

I am looking at the x-ray and trying to figure out what he is saying. The tooth in question is in the quadrant of my mouth that I am not in need of any work. I try to talk to him about it and why is in necessary and he is insistent about it

- This tooth can give you lots of issues, cysts and problems. It needs to come out!

- I understand and if it starts to act up, I will definitely have a look at it, but it has never given me any issues…

I try to think, but his proposal just doesnt make sense and why didnt he say that when we looked at the x-rays in detail at the beginning…you would think it would have been something worthy of mentioning: Hey, you need to have this tooth dug out of your bone before anything else can happen.

- Ok, then I dont want any work on my lower jaw. At least fix my tooth, its what is important to me anyway.

- So, you dont want to work on the lower teeth? — he is clearly unhappy with me.

- No. Not if it will mean I have to have a serious surgery to get it.

He is annoyed and reaches in his top drawer and flings me a business card.

-  This person can do the job you are after.

I am dumbfounded and my heart rate raises at this point.

- You refuse to treat me?

- I dont think that what you are after is optimal — he says as though I am some sort of an idiot.

- So what I want and is important to me is not optimal for you? — I cant even believe I am having this conversation.

- …well…I just…I dont feel its optimal.- his smug face utters, as though I should care more about what he thinks of my wishes for my teeth.

I am now fuming inside, if I was a screaming kind of a person I would be doing it at this moment.

- Its not optimal for you, because what I want is not enough money for you — I said, or something to this effect I cant remember, because it all felt like a bad movie that had an even worst ending at this point.

And left the office. There is only so much optimism that I can have in a situation that stinks, no, wreaks.

Left Waiting

I went to the front desk and asked for my bill. My heart was racing, my mind was having trouble digesting the situation, it was so ridiculous, hidden camera quality ridiculous.

Then, as though his disrespectful treatment so far was not enough, Vasudavan left me waiting at the desk for quite awhile, as he was pounding loudly on the keyboard from his office. The woman across was feeling a bit uncomfortable, as she could see I couldnt wait to pay and get out of there, but she apparently could not set up my invoice until His Rude Majesty finished his wild maniacal typing. She went to his office once, then asked the other woman if she can finilize my account before he is done — negative — and then we had a bit of small talk about the weather. I just wanted to leave the ghostly space, but it was not her fault, so silencing my pounding heart, I commented on the rain and temperature.

Click-clik-click was flying from the open door at the end of the hall, undoubtedly writing something flattering about my attempt at having an opinion about my teeth that disagreed with his, and worst, not changing my life’s plans to fit into his ‘optimal’ idea of what they should be. I was just wondering how much more insensitive can this person be and used the time to ask the smiling lady to send me my x-rays and the findings/results from my consult. She confirmed that it will be no problem to do that.

Finally, my file and I were released and I could pay, essentially for receiving nothing for what I came for, and leave this place in my past. Hopefully shortly in my long forgotten one.

Wrap up

I was as clear as possible about what I want and the time constraints I have from the first moment we spoke. Dr. Siva Vasudavan then spent the entire manipulation consultation trying to offer me everything that I was NOT interested in  and did NOT fit in my available time frame.

„Each individual ‘s orthodontic needs are different and deserve personalized attention” said the welcoming letter from the practice. I got absolutely no personalized attention. My voice was not heard, my needs were not respected, not only that, they were completely ignored and devalued. In fact, I wonder if Dr. Vasudavan even listened to me at all, or he did,  but decided that he will quickly manage to change my mind.

„There will be an opportunity for you to ask questions or express your concerns, and we will endeavor to address them to the best of our ability” — my questions were not welcomed and my concerns were pretty much laughed at.

If the issue was that what I am after is too small of a job, he could have simply said that to me. Something like:  „This is a pretty straight forward, easy job, and having in mind that we just opened and have a lot of ground to cover, I cannot afford to take your case, but I have a colleague I work with, who can do this for you without a problem. Would you like me to call him for you and organize an appointment?” would have more than made me happy and I can certainly understand such a position. Instead, my wishes were branded as ‘not optimal’, my aesthetic goals were not approved and I was tossed a business card and not accepted as a worthy client; and then asked to pay heftily for the honor.

Dr. Siva Vasudavan may be a wonderful orthodontist and he may very well be able to turn a wild forest into a perfectly lined wooden floor. I dont know. I know that I asked him to fix a tooth that is bothering me, he deemed my wish as not good enough and instead… left me with a crooked tooth. Presumably a more optimal result than what I was after in his eyes.

„We pride ourselves on excellent communication with our patients” continued the letter.
„as long as they do as they are told and refrain from thinking they know what they want” will be my addition to it for any future client of Dr.Siva, as he casually signs his correspondence.

No related posts.

Awhile ago I was sweeping the back from all the leaves that come down on us in autumn, which is one of the negative part of having so many trees around. Flippidy-Flop and an ALIEN bounces from the pile I am sweeping and I jump about like a scared cow, or at least as I assume one such creature would, and pause. And wait for the attack, which inevitably follows in such cases. Nothing. I approach the strange creature, slowly and carefully.  What in the world is that, I am thinking to myself and try to hold my shaking hands still.  It just stays there, stalking me, staring at me with its, what?, painted on eyes. It looked cute in a weird squishy, butt with a thorn kind of way. I poked it with a stick and it did nothing, just looked at me with those pretend I am not a caterpillar eyes.

I knew the girls would love to see this, so I covered it with a nearby clear plastic tray and went on with my business, although now somewhat freaked out and looking around for other creatures that may want to jump at me. Definitely not one of my proudest moments.

The kids loved it. Mr.Blab poked it, with his finger! , and they decided we should keep it for a bit and we piled up a selection of leaves and branches in there and covered it up.

Then a few days later the little bugger decided to change the game and turned pupa on us. It had made a little tent like area from the leaves, which were now stuck to the pavement on the edges and in the tent was the little wrapped up package.

We had no plans to keep it for long, but now we had no choice, we didnt want to leave it unprotected, so we left the cover on and checked up on it from time to time.

Nothing seemed to happen.

For awhile.

Then one day our check up revealed the sad ending to this short story.

Sorry, fella.

If it helps, you were one wonderfully beautiful moth and now I have a new appreciation for your kind.

Moths Rock!

No related posts.

For me this started on the two days before the actual birth at 10:40pm when I lost some of the plug. I know it usually doesn’t mean much, but it has now proven to be a very good sign for me. A very good one for impending labour indeed.

That night I was having some regular contractions, but nothing too painful, just enough to be noticed. I thought things might be happening, so got up after trying to sleep for awhile. They were coming about every 4–6 min but weren’t convincing enough, so I went back to bed.

Next Day

The day started as normal. I went with Miss Fab to our usual coffee and hot chocolate outing.

I had more contracting during the day. Again, nothing major, but just that much more intense than normal Braxton hicks.

Lost more plug at 2:50pm.

We went to a parent meeting for Miss Fab’s preschool that night and I remember one of the teachers gesturing at me — asking me if I am in labour, jokingly. I have been moving around my chair trying to get comfortable during the contractions and she must have sensed me. Near the end I stood up to walk around a little bit and another of the teachers came to me and said its ok if I leave. I said I am fine, but they basically kicked me out with care, plus Dad was getting bored and didn’t complain at all.

We got home at around 8:30pm, had a quick dinner and while Mr.Blab  put future big sister to bed I went for a walk around the block.

Later on, while talking to my mom for an hour I started writing down the contraction’s timings out of curiosity. Mr.Blab came by to check what I was doing and his face went pale and he pointed at the times I had written down on the paper (every 5–10 min) and asked „what is this?” with big anxious eyes. I said „don’t worry, nothing yet, been having them since last night”. I had everything under control and didn’t need his worries to burden me and I think that is why I had been keeping quiet.

I did a few things around the house. At 10:50pm decided to send a message to my friend, who was going to be my daughter’s support person during the birth, and tell her that there is a possibility of something happening soon, but definitely not anything certain. It was getting late and I wanted her to be prepared for a rude awakening some time in the night.

10:55pm more plug out.

I went to have a shower.

My friend called and Mr.Blab  brought the phone in the bathroom. She was getting excited, but since I really wasn’t sure if the birth is imminent I was trying to dampen her enthusiasm and didn’t want her to be keeping awake in anticipation. It was nice to talk to her though, and her excitement was lovely and made me giddy as well.  After getting off the phone, I had my shower, which felt wonderful. The water running down that ripe body is something not to be missed.

11:40pm I made myself a quick dark rye and hummus sandwich.

Mr.Blab asked me if I still wanted my bath, as we talked about earlier in the day. Sure!

While he was running my bath and lighting candles, I decided to time the contractions — every 4 min / about 50-60sec duration. They were just mildly painful, still not convincing enough that they are the real thing. With Miss Fab I had only about an hour worth of slightly painful contractions and from then on it was quite clear that labour was happening, so I was a bit confused with this turn of events.

Mr.Blab asked if he should call the hospital. I said that he can, if it will make him feel better, but if they told him we need to go, he cant, I repeat, can not bug me about it, cause I am not going. He had been a bit of a worried baby with the last birth and had been asking me repeatedly when we are going to the hospital and I  didn’t want that again. He decided not to call. Smart choice.

Went in the bathroom, which was dark with candles and some lovely man had brought the small TV in on the counter (ok, he is wonderful that way) and watched David Letterman, sipped my Red Raspberry Leaf tea and waited to see if things will slow down.

They didn’t. Still regular, but now even stronger contractions. I was rubbing my back through them now. Felt great though — in this warm lavender and Epsom salts bath, surrounded by candles…labouring. This was truly the best part of it all. Should have stayed there.

Birth Day

I decided to get out of the tub at about 1:00am.

Had my towel around me and by chance discovered that if I keep it taut around my back and lean forward while standing it felt great during the contractions, which by now were coming every 4min/70-80sec long.

Mr.Blab was doing last minute preparations — bag, cameras, and clothes ready for Miss Fab…

I kept leaking eggwhite stuff. Kept wiping it off and wondering if it was the waters or just plug.

We were discussing the situation and whether this is it… laughing and joking about it. Now he was giving me back massage during the contractions while I was leaning on the kitchen bench. Just the over the oven light was on and it was nice and cosy. I had the two mobile phones in front — one to check the time of the contractions and the other on stop watch to check the length. It was fun to watch the progress.

By 2am contractions were still every 4min, but 100–120 sec long.

I think I was almost convinced this was not a false alarm by now.

Still on the bench with my trusted towel around my back and my lovely man providing counter pressure on my back.

We were chatting and I was gulping water.

Went few times to the toilet and contractions there were not very pleasant…well, they darn hurt! Sitting down was not a position I enjoyed.

About now I felt like I didn’t want to be touched much, which happened very quickly into my first labour. I knew things were definitely getting close. The contractions were still every 4min and about 110sec long, but the pain was taking me over and taking me somewhere else — I let it, as it was the only way not to fight and to ensure the contractions were doing their job. I would lean and relax my lower half of the body and just breathe.

Mr.Blab, now released of his duty to do anything with me, was catching a little sleep, sitting on the sofa across my now very familiar kitchen bench. Yes, I was still there, standing.

3:04 last recorded contraction on my paper, about 110sec long, after which I woke the sleeping man to call my friend, the hospital and get us ready to go.

I am labouring with my towel, dripping a little bit of fluid on the floor, while he made the calls and woke and dressed Miss Fab. She was adorable, coming in the kitchen with messy hair and sparkles in her eyes, excited saying: „Mommy, the baby is coming!”. Yes, darling she is.

They were ready in the car, while I waited out the latest contraction and slowly made my way in the car. My girl  was asking me about the pains and then in the midst of a dreadful contraction (they are REALLY not fun in the car, home birth saves the whole unpleasant car ride too) I vividly remember her saying: „When I squeeze my eyes, the lights look like stars”, talking about the street lights. I looked at her and smiled as much as I could and whispered „Big beautiful stars…”

The ride is about 10min long. Horrid, horrid, horrid, especially when you wait till the last moment to make it. When we got there, I waited another contraction, for which I had to use my learned from the other labour trick of causing myself pain elsewhere to distract me from the big ones happening in my tummy — the best I could come up with is sticking my nail in my finger. When one is away from comfort and needs to use the actual thinking brain, that relaxed state is lost and one needs something else and that’s all I could come up with. Then got out and after refusing the wheelchair kindly brought by Daddy, made my way into the hospital (my daughter still asks me why I didn’t want a wheelchair) . Another cx…I still carry my towel and apply pressure with it and without my kitchen bench for support I lean my forehead on the nearest wall and do a tiny little squat.

We move in the elevator and Miss Fab cheerfully presses the button.

Out and another cx.

Walk the few meters to the suite say hi to the midwife turn the corner find a wall, brace head, pull towel and.… another cx. I keep my eyes closed and don’t pay much attention to what the others are doing.

We were told that my friend has arrived and my daughter went in the corridor to welcome her. Mr.Blab asked if I wanted him to give me back massage…I said no. I needed no one and nothing.

The midwife asked me after the contraction to go on the bed so she can check me. Its not something I wanted, but here is proof that in this condition, we women follow and do things we are not comfortable with for unknown reason. Maybe, because we just want to be left alone, or maybe because we are on some other level of consciousness that is designed to follow the signals of our own body. Anyway, I tried, but as soon as my butt touched the bed I knew it won’t be happening. The unpleasant feeling reminded me that this time I am not doing anything I am not comfortable with and just shook my head to refuse the offer and returned back to standing at the wall. Another cx.

Mr.Blab asked the midwives if he should go move the car as he parked at an ob/gyn spot. They said that its  probably a good idea and he went. I said hi to my friend and she asked me how I was going…as good as expected, I said laughing. She and my girl started chatting up in the background. Another cx, but this one turned to a pushing sensation in the midst. My stomach started to shake and the any pain almost disappeared. The midwife had her hand on my tummy at that point and was listening to the tones of my baby.

The bright lights were on, so I asked if they could get them down or off. Daddy was back by now and they started looking for a way to do that.

Another cx, this time all about pushing baby. I didn’t have to do anything, just let the incredible pressure do its job. She was coming down, I could feel her, even had to check with my hand if I can touch her for the first time. Then decided to try and see if I could slow down to avoid tearing. Then I thought it would be better to go on all fours, so asked for a pad. I would just talk to the wall and hope someone was listening  back there.

Another cx. There is no way to manage the urge to  push and I was not trying at this point…reach down and feel my baby girl. I support her head with my hand, open my leg a little bit more and her head is out. In my hand. Mr.Blab having heard the first noise coming from me, in the form of a grunt (by his own recount of the events) looks at me and sees the face of his daughter. He tells the midwives that the head is out – “The head is out!” — And one of them scrambles to me and helps supports her out… while he runs for the camera.

3:56am our second girl is born.

The relief! THE RELIEF! I cannot describe it. I walk over to the bed with the biggest smile on my face and realise that Miss Fab is upset. Her sister was all covered in vernix and that seemed to have scared her, so she was staying away. We had watched videos of births, but none of them had such a white goopy baby. I was so happy that with the biggest smile I say: „Mommy is ok, it’s finished, it’s done”. And that is the truth, the feeling of relief is indescribable, I could have flown at that point. I have been standing for the last 3 hours, with exception of the car ride, so the bed felt pretty good too.

Big sister was still not sure and looking with suspicion at that white gooey glob on my tummy. My friend was taking pictures, Mr.Blab was all grin and talking softly at his new girl, while cuddling and comforting his first born. We were waiting for the cord to stop pulsating and just taking our time to savor this wonderful fresh person that had just joined our family. She had her first feed. After which we sent everyone else out and got on with checking me and fixing up the 2nd degree tear that I wasn’t spared. Although, what did I expect delivering standing up .

The little one was still on the boob and I didn’t care about anything else.

The gang were back and big sister was much better now after having talked things over with dad and my friend. She was excited, going from this side to the other and wanting to see the baby. I remembered we bought her disposable cameras for the occasion and she jumped around at the thought. Then started taking pictures of her sister… touching her…kissing her. The grin didn’t leave her face. She was falling in love.

My friend left.

This time was magical. Our new child on my breast, the other with a grin from one ear to the other, kissing everyone in sight and my wonderful man looking at me like I am the best thing on earth…

I was ready to leave, but the midwives asked me nicely to at least stay a few hours. I agreed. Mr.Blab and sister left at about 5:30am to get some sleep, although big sister was not very willing to leave little sister by now.

I had a shower, put on my comfy jammies, dimmed the lights even more and jumped in bed with the new person in my life. The ward was quiet and the midwives left me at peace.

I call this my perfect hospital birth. But I admit, I often wish I had stayed home, especially after knowing how much better a home birth is.

(that birth „dress” I am wearing is held as a memento in her memory box…along with the vernix )

Related posts:

1. Infrequently asked questions cont.
2. How to ‘put’ a child to bed
3. Bangs, Lights and Answers
4. And then he was a week old