How did I ever live without an electric toothbrush?

How strange it is that I have lived four-score years and only found out this month that I need to use an electric toothbrush. Why isn’t an old-fahioned toothbrush that I have been using all these years (not the same one, of course, but many new ones of the same sort) no longer up to doing its job? Well, I got the warning from a periodontist who did her thing on me; she told me that, unless I started to use an electric brush, the plaque on my teeth would do me in. Actually, she said that my immune system was fighting hard to ward off the invasion of the bacteria from the plaque into my body.

It’s funny, I never knew that my teeth were miscreants who could do me deadly harm. I checked the periodontist’s diagnosis with my dentist–knowing very little about health matters myself, I always ask for a second opinion on such weighty matters–and was told that, yes, I should go for the electric brush.

Handily, the dentist had one in his office, in an unopened box, which I could buy for $90, which I did. But, I thought, I could probably find one at Wal-Mart or some other retailer for a lot less, in which case I would buy it and would return my $90 one for a refund. But, I went on the Internet and found this particular one (the Oral-B model 9450, which my dentist told me was superior to all others) priced at no less that $108 (plus S&H); so, I was fortunate to have paid only $90.

Although I had thought that electric toothbrushes were for the ultra-lazy, who didn’t want to expend the energy to push and pull an old-fashioned toothbrush around in their mouth, or for trendy faddists, I am now a convert.

It used to be that, when you bought an electrical appliance, you simply plugged it into an electrical outlet in the wall and, right away, started to use it. Not so any more. Anyone who has bought a TV set in recent years (other than a simple little job for less than $100) has gone through the experience of spending hours trying to set up all the software.

Although setting up the electric toothbrush wasn’t quite as complicated as doing so for a TV set, it took far more effort than removing a regular toothbrush from its package and starting to use it. First, I had to set up the "base station" that the brush handset (which looks like a small pipe bomb) sits in. Then, after setting up the base station, putting the brush handset into its proper place in the base station, removing the bottom of the base station to insert the "SmartPlug charger," and connecting it all into a wall electrical outlet, I was told I had to charge the contraption for 12 hours before using it. So, if you buy one, don’t throw away your old toothbrush until your new one is fully charged, and you know how to use it.

Don’t think I am trying to be funny when I say you have to know how to use the electric brush. There are 14 pages of instructions on how to use it in English (17 more in Spanish and French). According to the instructions, some of the procedures you have to master are:

"Personalizing" your brush: "Before getting started, you have to program your toothbrush so that it meets your specific needs." "Programming" a toothbrush? Good grief, what next?

"Brushing technique" and "Brushing modes." Never in my life had I ever thought that, one day, I would have to develop a "brushing mode."

For my use in all these "personalizing" procedures, "brushing techniques," and "brushing modes," there are four different attachments that I can put into my brush handset:

"Power tip," "Floss action," "Pro White," and another little unnamed gadget the use of which I will have to figure out.

I now see that I will have to allot extra time, after I arise in the morning, to figure out just how I am going to brush that day: Will I "Power tip" today? No, I think I did that yesterday, or was it two days ago? Maybe I should do "Floss action" today and plan to do "Pro White" tomorrow.

I can see that I will probably need to keep a diary as to how I brush each day, so that I will get each of those "brushing techniques" in their proper order. That reminds me of when I was in the fifth grade in school: our teacher required us to maintain a personal-hygiene diary, which I believe was called a "Lifebouy Health Chart" (put out for schoolchildren by the maker of Lifebouy soap). We had to enter each time we brushed our teeth, took a bath, washed out hair, drank milk, and did other healthful things. Once a week, our teacher would run down the list of things that we should have done–and, not wanting to force us to admit any shortcomings in front of the class–put us on the honor system to do those healthful things, in the future, for which we previously had been derelict.

I now shudder to think of how I might have to undergo that same ordeal, some 70 years later, when I next see my periodontist and dentist.