My orthodontist is a gem. That’s why he suggested I buy an ultrasonic retainer cleaner that my wife can wash her jewelry in.

I got retainers several years ago when I decided to go straight, not because I was a crooked jewel thief, but because two of my teeth were crooked and needed straightening.

I went to the Stony Brook University School of Dental Medicine on Long Island, New York, so my right upper lateral incisor and my left central lower incisor could be rotated back to their original positions with invisible braces, which weren’t actually invisible because otherwise, let’s face it, how could I find them?

Once my wayward ivories were realigned, which saved me the trouble of going to a mechanic, I got retainers. I wear them at night to keep my teeth on the straight and narrow, even though the mouth where they reside is deep and wide.

On a recent visit to Stony Brook for my yearly follow-up, I met Dr. Andy Lin, the latest in a long line of orthodontic residents who have had the dubious honor of treating me.

“Please pop your retainers in so I can see how they fit,” Dr. Lin said.

I did as instructed, first the top, then the bottom.

“They’ve kept your teeth nice and straight,” he noted. “But part of the top retainer on the left side has broken off. I can clip the end and smooth it out with an acrylic bur so it won’t cut your tongue.”

“While I’m still wearing it?” I asked nervously.

“No,” the good doctor assured me. “You wouldn’t want a bur in your mouth.”

“You could probably fit a jackhammer in there,” I said.

“We use that for drilling,” said Dr. Lin, who took my upper retainer to a back room, clipped and smoothed it, and returned a few minutes later. “Try it now,” he said.

I popped it in.

“It feels much better,” I told him. “Now I won’t speak with a forked tongue.”

Dr. Lin spoke with a funny tongue when he told me that he was the class clown in dental school.

“I did a lot of stupid things,” he said. “In an oral surgery class, when we were shown how to do stitches, we had to bring in bananas. I brought in a watermelon.”

“Did you have braces as a kid?” I asked.

“Yes, four times,” said the doctor, flashing a nice smile. “But I never had retainers. I’m too lazy.”

“I’ve been told the best way to keep them clean is with dishwashing liquid,” I said. “It might be easier just to put them in the dishwasher.”

“They’d come out in clumps,” said Dr. Lin, adding that I could use water and hydrogen peroxide or get a box of retainer tablets.

The best way to clean retainers, he said, is with an ultrasonic cleaner, a small, plastic and stainless steel machine that uses UV sterilization.

“I use one to clean my jewelry,” Dr. Lin said. “I even put my glasses in there.”

“Can I clean my wife’s jewelry?” I asked.

“Sure,” said the doctor. “But maybe you should start with your retainers.”

I went online and ordered the device, which cost $49.99. When it arrived, I plugged it in, filled it with water, put in my retainers, closed the lid and pressed the button.

Five minutes later, my retainers were spotless.

“They’re nice and clean,” said my wife, Sue.

“Do you want me to clean your jewelry?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

Undeterred, I took off my silver wedding band, the only piece of jewelry I own, and put it in the ultrasonic machine. When the ring came out, it looked like new, even though it’s 46 years old.

“It shines!” Sue exclaimed.

“Now do you want me to clean your jewelry?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It has stones. If they get ruined, you’ll have to buy me new ones.”

“I’ll stick with cleaning my retainers,” I said. “I can’t afford to put my money where my mouth is.”

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