Lord Help Me!

Several months ago Pop walked up to me pulling on his lip to reveal yet another broken tooth. Opening his palm he revealed the broken remains as if pleading with me to fix it. This one equaled the 6th that he had now lost. It appeared to me it was time to go to the dentist and get some teeth for the old guy.

The dental assistant called me back to the space where my dad was reclining in the dental chair. "Looks like a good fit," said the dentist as he observed with satisfaction the new partial in my dad's mouth. Pop looked at me like he wasn't so sure. "Does this thing come out" was my dad's first question? "It feels like I've got a big wad of something in my mouth." "Yes, you do have something in your mouth. You've got teeth," the dentist said with a twinkle in his eyes. Ignoring the dentist he turned to me and asked with a hint of concern in his voice, "Jude, do you know how to get this out?"

We walked to the front desk and he asked the receptionist with obvious distress, "Does this thing come out? It feels like I've got a big wad of something in my mouth." She smiled, "Yes, it will take a little getting used to." A very grumpy Pop and I left the dental office with his new partial in place.

Once in the truck the long litany of repetition began. "Does this thing have to stay in? ... Do you know how to take it out? ... Feels like a big wad of something in my mouth ... Jude, do you know how to take this out? ... Feels like a big wad of something in my mouth ... Is this permanent?"

... "Does this thing come out?" ... OK, I could see that there was going to be a little adjustment period. Trying to put the lid on the stream of questions and anxieties, I decided that few men can handle an in-your-face, the wife-can-do-it better line. So I resorted to appealing to his manhood by saying, "Do you remember the partial that Mother had? She wore that for years and she got used to it. I think you can too." He was thoughtfully quiet and I concluded that we were making some progress.

At lunch he seemed relatively positive about the way the new teeth worked. "OK, this is good," I thought. After lunch a few more questions. I led him in a little lesson on taking it out and putting back it in. He did well.

Pretty soon I saw him outside taking his afternoon walk. Yeah, a little walk to distract him from his new mouth full. Soon I hear him approaching me from behind and turning to face him he said, "I've got something in my mouth. It feels like something in the back of my throat." I try to appease myself with "OK, he doesn't remember the trip to the dentist or the partial. Give him a little more time."

The afternoon passed into early evening and as I walked by the living room I observed Pop with his head bowed, great furrows in his brow, obviously deeply in prayer. Listening I heard him very softly saying, "Lord help me! Lord help me!" "Hmmmmmm," I think.

Being the determined person that I am I shook off my momentary discouragement and at dinner time suggested that we try the partial again. He did not push back and popped it right into place. But during the meal he sat eating with his head lowered over his plate obviously distressed. When I questioned him regarding the down cast look he said, "The teeth." This is not a good sign either.

Soon it was evening and the appliance was put to bed in its little white box. I observed Pop pushing it around with his forefinger in its watery bath. I could almost read his mind as he furrowed his brow in deep thought. "I have to get used to this confounded thing. I have to wear this heap of metal and plastic. Lord help me!"

Now I am definitely a persistent, determined person but even the most determined of us have to occasionally come to a point where we are willing to admit defeat. Today, a new day, I didn't even suggest that Pop wear his new partial. Realizing the hoops that I was going to have to jump through and his level of distress just didn't make sense for me to continue the fight. I have thrown up my hands and admitted that he has won ... again. If he dose ever wear it again it will probably be only occasionally when we go out. So, if you see my toothless Pop, don't laugh or cry, just know that we tried hard, really, really hard and Lord Help Me ... it didn't work!