Let me share with you a story my mother told me as a child. This story is about a man, a man of little consequence to the grand course of history, but he needs a name, so we'll call him Bob.
Bob was an ordinary American. Grew up in an average middle-class family with two middle-class parents in a decent neighborhood. Two-story house, Golden Retriever in the yard, all that jazz. Those details aren't particularly relevant to this story, though.
Like most ordinary American children, Bob's teeth weren't perfect. As a child, they grew in crooked, sideways, what have you. As he began to stumble through the puberty-laced perils of his teenage years, Bob's parents, being the loving and attentive caregivers they were, and, more importantly, concerned about their long-term prospects regarding grandchildren, took Bob to an orthodontist. After all, if you're struggling with acne, awkwardly changing bodily proportions and furiously raging hormones, why not throw a wire fence on your teeth to top it off?
A few years later, Bob's teeth were straight as an arrow. Bob was free and clear, with one exception: a permanent retainer on his upper jaw. No big deal, relatively speaking. Just some hidden wires and a resin plate lining his palate.
Bob's cybernetically-enhanced, flawless smile did well for him over the years. Eventually, he settled down with a lovely woman, we'll call her Sarah. Sarah was an up-and-coming sous-chef at the locally renowned Cadillac Diner, whose interests included long walks on the beach and well-arrayed incisors.
We'll skip ahead for a bit, past the honeymoon, the lease-signing, the wedding-gift-pawning, to Bob's next semi-annual dental checkup. While his teeth themselves were in fine condition, the dentist found that his retainer's resin plate was degrading at a surprising rate.
"Has there been any change in your diet lately, Robert?" (The dentist was not into the whole brevity thing.)
"Well, I just got married. My wife is a fantastic cook, she works at the Cadillac Diner in fact. So she's been cooking breakfast for me almost every day."
"Oh, the Cadillac Diner? Their Eggs Benedict are fantastic."
"You think so? That's Sarah's specialty, in fact. Her Hollandaise sauce is divine; it's even better at home!"
Suddenly, the dentist was hit by a flash of inspiration. "I'm going to refer you to an orthodontist colleague of mine," he said, scribbling frantically on a slip of paper. "Give this to him."
Concerned for the fate of his smile, Bob scheduled his orthodontic referral with the utmost haste. However, the orthodontist warned him that there would be a delay. "I'm afraid this isn't a material I normally use, Bob. We'll have to order a shipment of chromium before I can complete your new retainer."
Weeks passed, but eventually, the work was complete. Bob went home to his wife's home-cooked breakfasts, shiny new retainer in place. Several oral checkups came and went, and the retainer remained good as new. One thing stuck in Bob's mind, though, so he brought it up to the dentist:
"Hey doc, I've been wondering. Why chromium? I had to get that new retainer specially ordered, you know."
"Oh, well Robert, a mixture of egg yolk and lemon juice can be harsh on ordinary materials. You need an especially corrosion-resistant metal if you’re exposing it to that every day.
Submitted January 15, 2017 at 11:45PM by VicisSubsisto http://ift.tt/2jfn2SK
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