I'm Retired! Now what?

August 5, 2026

As the number of candles on my birthday cake are nearing the stages of a four-alarm fire, I seem to be adding different doctors to my regular routine.  Over the last few years I’ve added trips to the neurologist, cardiologist, and ophthalmologist, but there has been one doctor that I have been visiting regularly since I switched to solid foods, and that’s the dentist!  A lot of people I’ve met over the years freak out at the very mention of the word dentist and will tolerate a trip to the tooth doctor only when their face is swelled up like a basketball, or they’re starting to choke on their rotting teeth because they tend to swallow one with every meal.

I’ve always been a regular brusher, and at times I’ve gotten so rigorous with my brushing that I felt like I was going to jab my tooth brush right through the roof of my mouth and shish kabob my brain with my dental hygiene efforts!  Actually, I love to brush, and I’ve never been able to understand those who refuse to carry out such a refreshing act!  You get fresh breath, clean teeth, and women won’t tell you they’re gay just so they don’t have to kiss you.  Of course, this isn’t a thought shared by all.  I used to know a guy at work who was only in his mid-twenties, but the color of his teeth was beginning to match the color of his hair, which was brown by the way. I’m all for color coordination, but there are limits to such.  Curious about his synchronized bodily shading, I asked one of his buddies if the guy was a proud dipper or a devoted smoker.  “Nope,” I was told.  “He doesn’t dip.  Doesn’t smoke.  Doesn’t brush either.”  Well, I guess that explained it.  Personally, I’ve always been passionate about keeping my hair and teeth different colors.  So with that in mind, I was off for my six-month dentist checkup and cleaning!

I’ve been going to the same dentist for years now, and the guy’s actually three years older than I am.  So with every visit I’m tempted to throw out the question, “How much longer are you going to be doing this?”  I love the guy, but I do realize there will come a day when I won’t be too thrilled about an 85-year-old dentist firing up a drill and sticking it in my mouth.  Actually, this guy used to run marathons, and he’s probably in better shape than I am.  So he generally tells me that he loves his job and wants to do it as long as it’s still enjoyable, and more than likely, as long as he needs the money.   Yea, two divorces can provide quite the motivation to stay out of retirement.

He’s always asking me about the last rock concert I’ve been to, and I’m usually more than happy to lay out all the details.  We bond through music, but more than anything we bond through root canals, fillings, and enough crowns where I’m pretty sure that I’ve personally paid for at least one of his BMW’s.   I’m also pretty sure that I now have more crowns in my mouth than the English monarchy could ever dream of owning.  One might say that I am true dental royalty!    I’ve known people in the past who were quite proud of the fact that every tooth in their mouth was their own.   After seeing their teeth though, I had to wonder if they should be so honored.  Usually these are the folks whose teeth are every color of the rainbow while pointing every direction but up and down.  I’ll proudly take my crowns, thank you very much.  There’s a lot to be said about working for a company that carries a good dental plan.

I’ve been going to this dentist long enough where I can call the dental assistant by her first name, and as an added bonus, I know her passion for cooking as well as how many tattoos she has.  Not only that, but the insurance lady actually calls me, “My dear.”  I’m pretty sure that’s a Texas thing though.

The scheduled six-month checkup deals with a quick inspection and teeth cleaning, and over the years I got to know my dental hygienist pretty well.  She was a good West Texas lady who would often give me the low-down concerning life out in the Permian Basin.  We had built up a great rapport over the years, but she was even older than my dentist and decided to call it quits last year.  Oh no!   What to do?  What to do?   Well, a new lady came in who I thought was really cool.  She was from Colorado, and we bonded over camping trip stories and all things mountains and outdoorsy.  But apparently, she had other plans and left.  So after only a couple of appointments of polishing up my pearly whites (or shining my crowns) she was gone.  Therefore, I had no idea who was going to be shoving their fingers into my mouth for this visit.

 So when I stopped by for my six-month cleaning last week, I was a bit shocked when a rather cute blonde poked her head into the waiting room and called my name.  I’m not the best with ages, but if she was over 35, I’d be shocked.  Of course, I was like “Okay, shove both hands in my mouth.  I’m good with that!”   The first thing she did was take my blood pressure and gave me quite the detailed description of how the cuff would tighten around my arm.  I had to restrain myself from saying, “Ms. Dental Hygienist, I’m 62 years old.  I’ve had my blood pressure taken once or twice in my life.” 

As the lady fired up her prophy angle to clean my teeth she gave the rundown of her current life status, and it wasn’t good.  She wasn’t overly crazy about where she was living or where she had lived.  Although she was from the Dallas area, she was under the impression that Big D wasn’t the town it once was and had no interest in returning.  Then she claimed she considered moving to Oklahoma City, but she wanted to live where her friends there lived, but couldn’t afford it.  Well, her friends lived in Nichols Hills which is OKC’s version of Beverly Hills.  Then she dove into a one-sided discussion regarding her bad life choices while dishing out the fact that she didn’t like where her life had been, wasn’t overly crazy about where it was, and had no optimistic hopes about where it was going.  I was starting to believe that the poor girl wasn’t too crazy about much of anything.  Then she mentioned how she had never bought a house, but was now edging toward the age of needing to move into a retirement home or sorts.  As mentioned earlier, if the woman was a day over 35, I’d be shocked!  As she pulled her fingers out of my mouth I had to ask, “I take it you’re single?”  That question was answered with a quick, “Yes.”  Such made me want to blurt out, “Wow!  Who’d of thought?” 

After a thorough floss job, she complimented me on my brushing devotion and rained praise down upon my teeth.  I felt like answering with, “Well, they should be good.  Most of them came from this very office!”  Hopefully, she’ll be there in six months when I return, and even more hopefully, she’ll be a little happier with her status in life.  She seemed to be good at her job, she was fairly young, and as an added bonus, she was pretty!  I guess if I had my fingers in people’s mouths all day, I might be a bit bummed as well.