May I Please Have Another Cookie?

I hear it all of the time and from people of all ages.  “If I was younger, I would do something about my mouth, but at my age I can’t see spending the money since I may not live a lot longer.”  I’m not here to predict anyone’s demise, but dental health becomes more and more important as we age.  I could go on and on about the importance of keeping your mouth in excellent condition as you enter the golden years, but I think a story shared by a dental colleague (Dr. Kenneth Myers) who teaches where I do will say it better than anything else.  For the sake of space I will shorten it some, but the meaning will still be there.

“As I walked into the room, the nurse was applying medication to a hand wound my grandmother had received from a fall a week earlier.  My eight-year old son and I had traveled a thousand miles to say goodbye to her.  At 89 years of age, here body was finally ready to give in to cancer and her mind had fallen victim to Alzheimer’s disease over the previous several years.

It was sad to see her unable to hold herself up in a chair.  I said hello to her and she opened her eyes enough to gaze at me.  Her air-filled voice repeated, “I’m so tired, I’m so tired.”  I held her hand and comforted her the best I knew how.  I told her stories about my family, my job, the tree we planted in honor of my grandfather and how full our lives were.  It was as if I were trying to justify her life through the one I was able to live now. 

We had brought some cinnamon cookies with us and I offered one to her.  Her dry frail hand reached for a cookie.  She slowly nibbled on it.  As you spend time with someone who is close to death and appears to have lost everything, one naturally thinks about how unimportant much of one’s life can be.  I thought about the worldly parts of my life:  the cars, boat, and my home.  I thought about the simple functions of life:  walking, running, feeding ourselves…we have so much when we are healthy.  Being a dentist I reflected on how trivial teeth seemed at a moment such as this.  I pondered this thought as the first cookie disappeared, then another.  My grandmother’s exhausted manner seemed to temporarily dissipate.  She had found pleasure in nibbling the cookies. 

My grandfather was a righteous man who always felt it was important to do things in the correct way.  He always took care of his belongings.  In the same manner, his and my grandmother’s health had been important to them, including their teeth.  They both had most, if not all, of their teeth until the end.  Even at the time of my grandfather’s death at the age of 84, he was scheduled to have some major dental work completed. 

My grandmother was now working on a fifth cookie.  I watched as she gently grasped it, lifted it to her mouth, bit it and sighed with pleasure at its wonderful taste.  Suddenly, I realized that because she had her own teeth at the age of 89, she was able to find some pleasure in what most would consider a horrible existence.  She could still eat and experience the pleasure of taste!  What had seemed small in the scale of things a moment ago had renewed importance. 

Many patients judge the competence of a dentist based on whether they are free of pain.  However, a dentist’s true competence may be measured by whether patients still have the ability to eat at the end of their lives. 

As her hand reached out, her fragile voice whispered to me, “May I have please have another cookie?””

How much is dental health and quality of life worth – you decide.