Walk into Mom's house and what do you see?
Read along while I set the scene for you.
Mom has a modest home, with cream colored walls and a kitchen bar that faces both the minimal fireplace in the only living area and the front door in the very minimal foyer. Mom has the usual furniture, nothing fancy but more suitable for constant living. All just comfortable enough to convey a message of a lightly placed down-home-welcome.
Just inside the foyer you'll find the normal home decor; a number of crosses on the walls, a well placed mirror, a couple of candles and the ever popular iron initial representing that people live here..... but what's missing?
There's a photo of the oldest son and of the youngest son, one of the husband and one of the Rottweiler who passed away years ago; what you don't see are pictures of the lady of the house. Well, there is that one - you know the one that was fretted over and finally put in a frame with a feeling of exasperation. But still, you'd swear it shows a slight tint of shame..... it's just a snap shot, nothing fancy, no studio setting, no spun-up hairdo, just a simple snap shot captured one night years ago.
But look at it closer, do you see a smile? Do you see more than a mere profile image? No - you don't. The lady of this house doesn't take photos, family photos are non existent; snap shots of Mom get quickly deleted from the camera before someone can see them.
Why?
Mom has lost her teeth. While not completely toothless; toothless enough to cause her physical image to become prisoner of the not-so-smooth-hand-in-front-of-the-mouth-smile.
Once a budding character, Mom has become much less sociable now. She doesn't join women's clubs anymore, she doesn't volunteer, she doesn't attend luncheons or settings where her looks may or, even, may not be on display, she even stopped going to Sunday School. She used to be an impulsive person, but now everything has become calculated, and the mathmatical diagram always takes root through the "do I want people to see my teeth" question room; where inadvertantly the answer is always a resounding "NO!".
But it's not just the photo's or the active-living-Mom that's missing here. What else is gone, is it something you can see, something you'd notice right away? Probably not.
Mom doesn't eat anymore. Every bite is as calculated as her outtings. Every food chosen for comfort and chewability instead of taste or nutrition. Mom remembers foods that she used to love, but the hopes of even tasting them have long since faded into reality. Sometimes Mom will put the bacon bits in her mouth just to suck on the flavor, but she never does it when anyone is looking. She also cuts tiny pieces of a Hershey's Kiss and places a single slither on the roof of her mouth just to experience the pleasure of chocolate, but she never does that either [when people might see].
Mom's morning routine is just as odd as her anti-social tendencies. Usually once a week Mom will make three cups in the morning, two cups of morning coffee; one with cream and one with cream and sugar and a third with a well-measured amount of peroxide and water. All cups are left dormant on the counter until they've reached room temperature. Then carefully Mom will use a child's medicine dropper to place a single millliliter of the sweetened coffee on the back of her tongue, followed quickly by a big swallow of the room temperature coffee with cream only.
Why?
Mom used to love her coffee steaming hot with cream and two sugars, but that recipe has now become a recipe of pain. These days Mom has her coffee while standing by the sink, ready to swish the ready-made rinse of peroxide and water, just in case she misses her tongue and gets some of the sweet stuff near a broken or cracked tooth.
Mom still has friends, but they've been reduced to cell-phone buddies. There are no outtings with the girls anymore; not for Christmas shopping or even the pedicures she used to love to have with her friends. Mom has pushed everyone away now. She doesn't talk about her teeth, she doesn't talk about her inability to get them fixed. She doesn't tell anyone that she sits late into the night and searches the internet for a glimmer of hope. Mom has developed the ability to look you right in the eye and lie that she's feeling fine; but check Mom's medicine cabinet and what you'll find is a much different story. Bottle after bottle of pain killers line the cabinet, each with a different doctor's name on it, and bottle after bottle of empty antibiotic bottles.
Has Mom become a addict; no, I don't think so. Mom has been to at least 10 different dentists, practically begging each one to take her money in payment installments, yet each one has turned her out. For each office Mom visited, she left with 4 things: A prescription for antibiotics , A prescription for some mild painkiller, A stern warning from each dentist that much of her health problems could be because of her teeth and finally Mom left with another broken heart from yet another denial for care.
Mom worries a lot and Mom cries a lot, especially when another tooth breakes and you watch her consult her checkbook again to see if she's yet acquired that multi-thousand upfront payment the dentists insist upon. You expect to see baby's chin quiver with tears, but not Mom's.
Mom doesn't go out anymore. Mom doesn't talk to people anymore. Mom doesn't smile anymore. Mom doesn't laugh anymore.
Mom lives in pain and shame.
Mom's smile has become like a picture on a magazine page; somewhere, you know it exists, but not here and not now - maybe never.... unless
