The questing tongue is an unsettling companion.
As an opening sentence I am almost tempted to leave it as the total content for this entry. But when have I ever allowed the laconic to take the place of the loquacious? So, I am prepared to give a little more content for the opening thought.
A broken tooth is a sad experience, but when that tooth is a molar and that molar is not entirely in good health then the gory reality of digging it out of the gum after it had been condemned is an unsettling experience.
I was In The Chair for over an hour, and I was visited by three dentists as part of the extended process of extraction. I cannot pretend that I was writhing in agony during this attention as my usual “I don’t want anaesthetic” was not an option given how far and how deep the dentists (What do you call a collection of dentists? A clench? A drill? A despair? A pain?) were preparing to go.
Patching up or filling was not a possibility and so the excavation down even to the deepest root was the only possibility.
I was not shown the enamelled remains of the offending tooth as it came out in bits and after a great deal of effort on the parts of the various dentists who took a bash as it. In some case quite literally.
Eventually, I was allowed to stagger from the inclined plane, and after paying (always adding insult to injury in my view) for the bloody mess that was my mouth, and leave.
And this is where the tongue plays its part.
Looking at your remaining teeth in a mirror gives only one impression of the small discrete space left by an extracted tooth. Your tongue tells entirely a different story. The tongue tells you that there is a yawning chasm in your mouth, that will be an echoing source of attention to anyone looking at you.
My casual enquiry about an implant was noted, but I was told that any work would only be able to be undertaken after a period of at least six months or more to allow the ravaged excavation pit to return to some sort of normality.
My progress towards this normality was a ragged one. Quite literally. After a few weeks, my ever-restless tongue detected a small lump in the empty socket, which gradually (at least according to the mapping of the tongue) took on a more aggressive character as the pinnacle of a sharp mountain of enamel began to be revealed. It got to the point (ha!) where it could not really be ignored.
A reference to the dentist brought about another visit and yet more digging necessitating a couple of stitches by the time the remaining fragments had been de-gummed.
And at that point, I had had enough and was quite prepared to let the gap remain.
My dentist had other ideas though, and much later. I was called into his little office where he had prepared a cut-price offer to make the astronomical cost of an implant seem reasonable. And I went along with it.
I was not prepared for the number of individual appointments that I had to make for the stages of checking, installing and finally capping the gap.
As I type, I can see the plastic versions of my gnashers that were formed by a series of photographs downloaded to the computer and then created on a 3D printer. The last time an impression of my teeth was made, I had to bite into a lump of medicinal clay (?) and then a plaster cast was made. Such is progress and a frightening amount of money.
The gap is now finally filled, but before I left, I was given various dire warnings about the need to ensure that the new tooth (and more particularly its organic setting) was kept clean.
As I do floss (usually) I thought that my dentist would be satisfied, but he indicated that a water pik was a much better alternative, and I was told not to get the large version but to buy a ‘travel’ pik from Amazon, as it doesn’t cost much.
At this point I am inclined to recall a conversation that I had with my dentist back in Cardiff, when we talked about our pay negotiations that were both on-going at the time. We seemed to have a lot in common, until I looked out of the window and saw the brand-new Merc that my dentist owned! So cost is relative. As always.
However, I am never one to deny myself buying something, so today (before 11 pm) I should get my new water pik and start a new regime of cleansing to my dentist’s exacting satisfaction.
And I hope to god that no further teeth crumble. I can’t afford any further replacements!
