The cold hard tooth

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook this evening. I don’t know the band but the title raised a wry smile. Well it might of if my face wasn’t puffed up like Winnie the pooh after five rounds with that beehive.

Last night one of my teeth fell out.

It wasn’t completely unexpected. Because I had this; Pagets which meant I had to have this which meant, among many things, goodbye teeth for a variety of complicated, immensely boring reasons…

I already wear a top denture, God – that was hard to write – it’s not an easy thing to admit in your mid thirties. It was even harder saying goodbye to those teeth a few at a time and even harder reconciling myself to the denture. Three years in and I’m pretty much accustomed. Now my lower teeth are getting steadily wobblier. ..

I, fool that I am, have been procrastinating over the dentist. The last time I was there she suggested just going into hospital and having the lot out all at once. I’ve dodged appointments ever since. Ignoring toothache, brushing gingerly and constantly swilling with OralB to avoid the worse gum infections. I knew the end would come eventually but just wanted to delay it a little longer. You’d think the loss of a tooth would force me into action but as I type I’m thinking – well -the swellings gone down and it doesn’t hurt that much…I can’t really afford it….I’m sure I could put it off for another couple of months?

The first major tooth removal was before I had Ida, and was the first warning signs of the pagets and it’s myriad of interesting genetic complications. All acebated by my pregnancy. I wept over their loss bitterly. My lovely (slight, twelve-year-old, not very fluent english speaking) dentist sent out the dental nurse so I could weep in privacy as she levered them out of my receding gums and, frankly, not up to the job jawbone. I cried all the way home and for most of that week. No matter how much I told myself it was a small thing in comparison to many people’s bodily losses (and oh how that came back to haunt me when we discussed my options about my cancer riddled arm with the consultants) I still mourned each and every ivory peg.

The tooth fairy doesn’t visit gummy adults.

Now I’m reconciled to it all, I don’t even think about my denture, it looks really natural, I’m sure people don’t even notice, I bought a sellotape dispenser since I could no longer rip it in my mouth. I have only Zeph’s longing to contribute to You’ve Been Framed and gaining the technical ability to use the film function on my camera and granary bread to fear.

At least that was the case until last night. Now I’m back to denial and nightmares. And crying over my toothbrush, bulk buying mouthwash and, oh, a bit more denial.

Sounds like a plan doesn’t it?


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