I was dreading this morning's dentist visit with Dean. The receptionist called me last week and said, after talking with the university dentists that his regular dentist would like Dean and I to come in for a consultation about his teeth. She said it appeared he may have to have his lower teeth pulled.
I mentally gasped at this possibility, since Dean only has eight bottom teeth left in his whole mouth. His main pleasure in living is to eat. How he is able to gum his food enough with no teeth on top is beyond me already. And with no teeth at all, I was picturing crock pot soups being on our menu almost every day and having to cook the life out of our vegetables even more than I already am, so he can chew them easier.
Thankfully, the outlook was modified some after speaking with the dentist herself today. They were only going to take out two teeth for now and provide him with a partial to take their place. Dean was not entirely satisfied with this prospect either, but he seems at least to have accepted his fate and agree to the procedure.
He didn't promise he'd wear the partial though. I could have predicted that. We have two sets of dentures at home somewhere collecting dust, because he refuses to wear them. And they are keeping company with state-of-the-art hearing aids on his dresser and two leg braces in the closet, just waiting for the man they were fitted for to wear them. Change is not his friend. I give the partial only partial odds, maybe 20% or so, of being in his mouth more than twice.
I wonder how many of God's gifts I have just laying around, waiting for me to use them. Are they becoming dust magnets, while I struggle along with my infirmities, ignoring the fact that help is practically at my fingertips? God's blessings and gifts are right under my nose. I just have to decide to use them. I rather think the change they would bring to my life would be of the positive variety. The odds are good for that. Like 100%.
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