ORTHODONTICS WITH A SMILEY

 

I’ve had braces twice now, first as a teenager, and again lately. My recent set of tracks got removed just after my forty-second birthday in August, 2002. Now I wear only a retainer to keep my newly adjusted teeth in place. Both of my children will require braces over the next few years. Many people need them for a variety of medical and cosmetic reasons. Crooked teeth are not a laughing matter, but neither is wearing a bunch of wire in your mouth over a period of several years. Monetarily, the decision to get braces is a big one. When you can’t stand to look in the mirror again, or you suffer pain with every chew, an orthodontist may be able to help, especially one with a name that matches his vocation—creating smiles.

Dr. Steven J. Smiley, D.D.S., son of Dr. Gary R. Smiley, also D.D.S., still enjoys his dad working in the office from time to time at Smiley Orthodontic Associates, 342 South Pine Street. Their setup appears to allow the elder to oversee the younger while the elder gets more time off. That may be why Dr. Gary can be caught with a broad grin as he listens to his son at work.

Not only does Dr. Steven straighten teeth to make better smiles, not only is he pleasantly humorous while groping around inside a patient’s sensitive mouth, but his staff keeps up "service with a smile," or Smiley, as the case may be. Not once during my latest two-and-a-half-year tenure did I have cause to regret my choice in orthodontists.

"Those look awfully catiwhompus to me," said Dr. Steven to the teenaged girl in the chair next to mine. She giggled as he stared down at her in mock awe. "Mom, I think we’re gonna have to go to Plan B next visit."

One glance at the teenaged boy on the other side of her, and Dr. Steven proclaimed, "You’ve got Cadillac-sized teeth trying to fit into Volkswagon-sized parking spaces!" More giggles erupted from the other dozen kids spread around the community-style exam room. "Hey, Dad—come on over here and see if you think they’re as whoppyjawed as I do."

Children still have the monopoly on braces, although I wasn’t the only adult getting a checkup. My second set were far superior in technology to the first, however. No more can braces be truly considered "railroad tracks." The older versions I wore as a boy were uncomfortable stainless steel bands around each tooth with stainless steel wire strung between them (that felt like barbed wire). This time, I had eight metal bands around my back molars, while all my other teeth got simple little posts glued to their faces. These were far more comfortable than the old stuff. The posts held a strand of ultra-thin titanium wire on both the upper and lower rows of teeth. To make sure my teeth shifted position along the wire path, tiny elastic bands were applied between the posts to exert the necessary force. I could even choose the color of band, although the first set I got were neon red, which made me look like Dracula. The wire itself had a "memory," so Dr. Steven could cause my teeth to level themselves vertically and twist in place if necessary by shaping the wire the way he wanted my teeth to be.

At last, I’m in the final stage of treatment: holding the teeth in place for the rest of my life. This requires a retainer, molded to fit my upper pallet. For the last six months I’ve worn this device around the clock with the promise of eventually enduring it only at night. At my checkup in November, I asked Dr. Steven if I could cut back on the time.

"You haven’t worn it long enough to have reached the plea bargain stage," he smirked. I had to laugh. He was right, though. Why would I want to spend a bunch of money and put up with the inconvenience of braces for several years, just to turn around and undo everything by not properly wearing my retainer?

Far from barbed wire, the new generation of braces are more comfortable and provide better results in a shorter period of time. Under the hands of good orthodontists, they’re worth the effort. My bite doesn’t cause pain anymore, nor do my teeth wear unevenly. Now, I see Dr. Smiley less and smile a lot more—not that I ever minded looking into that pleasant face. Thanks, Doc!