It's a Dad's Life:Right now there is a general ache in the right side of my jaw following a prolonged tussle yesterday with the dentist's drill. Apparently there's a lot more of that sort of slap and tickle to come.
In the last 15 years I have had only one series of visits to a dentist, and that was before the turn of the millennium. I chose a dentist back then who was about the same age as me. It was a bit of a novelty, someone like me being in the medical game, like kids playing at doctors and nurses. I've gone back to the same guy this time round but his age is no longer a feature; nowadays everyone seems younger than me.
There was a lot of shaking of the head as he peered into my diseased maw at our first consultation. He told me that with my record of dental maintenance I was lucky my gums hadn't shrivelled and died. Next came a couple of X-rays and a short tutorial on jawbone reduction if plaque is left to squat indefinitely between one's molars. Suitably shamed, I asked for a prognosis.
He informed me that a couple of scraping sessions with the hygienist, five fillings and a crown will have my smile back to its Hollywood best. I'm taking a hit financially, but I feel I've got lucky.
With the same kind of reckless abandon, I ditched my VHI cover on leaving full-time employment more than five years ago. So far, so good, and no major illnesses to report. The kids are on the Missus's cover so I'm only gambling with my own health. Now, getting closer to 40 than 30, I'm thinking it might be about time I signed back up. Or is it? I priced a loan for a new car during the week. The repayments came in around €400 a month but if I wanted cover in case I was unable to work for a prolonged period during that time, the figure moved up to €500. That's an extra 25 per cent for fear I can't pay the original amount in the first place. Who are they kidding? If I wind up on my back in bits, they can have the car back. It's not like I'll be out joyriding in it.
Every time I buy something, someone tries to sell me optional insurance - cars, holidays, healthcare, white goods, computers, entertainment systems. I will take my chances, thank you very much; the last time I looked, Irish society wasn't that dangerous a place to walk around in and my TV has functioned perfectly well for more than seven years.
But there's a kernel of doubt in there. The question comes in: "Do you want to pay a little bit more for some peace of mind?" My first reaction is, "Yes, please!" Then I resist and risk having my hair cut without the optional "earlobe policy".
Did this fear of appliances not working or suffering slight discomfort come about because I've become older and aware I will shuffle off some day? Or is it, as I believe, more likely because I've got kids? One of the first effects the birth of children has on you is to make you terrified you won't be around forever, that you mightn't be able to look after them until they can look after themselves. That care comes in various ways: monetarily, emotionally and physically, among others. It's a natural feeling and, like parental guilt for inevitably letting your offspring down, it isn't set to go away.
What isn't natural is the twist marketeers put on this inclination. Right, we've moved out of the 18-34 bracket where it's all high octane trips to Ibiza and go-faster stripes, but there's no need to sell us extra fear. My sister recently broke her leg in two places rollerskating at 5mph on the footpath outside her front door. My kids can hurt themselves in a padded room lined with cotton wool. But most of the time, they and I go out the door and return intact.
Maybe the VHI can wait for a while longer.
