I seem to have got a bit out of practice with this blogging lark. It's been a time issue more than anything else. And also, now that Landlord reads my blog (well he doesn't, but he knows where to find it)I can no longer use this space as the place to say the unsayable, utter the inutterable and blather on about stuff safe in the knowledge that on one but a very forgiving few are going to read it.
But it seems that having told landlord about my blog, he is most keen I keep blogging. For someone who doesn't read my blog, that sure is a lot of interest.
But aside from that I'm actually here to tell you about a little bit of news. It's not good news but then it's not bad news, either. It's the sort of news where something wrong gets put right but my stomach does alarming little turns at the though tof it and where I actually feel I need someone to hold my hand a little bit. And no, that doesn't mean I'm pregnant.
I have my appointment with two dental implantologist next month. I've seen the scans of my skull, I've learned about bone deterioration and seen how much I've lost. Been told I'm am about as borderline as they get for needing bone grafts or not. He asked me whether I would prefer bone grafts. Well now let me see... correct me if I'm wrong but don't you put me under a local anaesthetic, then remove both my lower wisdom teeth so you can harvest bone matter from underneath, to fill out the ridge of bone right behind my top lip. This will mean a fair amount of 'discomfort' for up to a week afterwards and also will move the location of my four front teeth forward slightly.
Trying to get images of Janet Street-Porter out of my mind, I asked whether that would change the appearance of my face and of course I already knew the answer. I also don't want to have an overbite and a top lip that won't cover it so the pain, bone harvesting, wisdom teeth extraction and did I mention pain? aside, I'd rather not go through all that, but if not having the bone graft makes the implants hard to place then I'll just have to bite the bullet as it were and go through with it. He did offer that I could be sedated for the grafting, since it is rather an unpleasant procedure apparently (no kidding?). It might seem a little extreme to be sedated for an anaesthetised dental procedure but I have very vivid memories of the last time I underwent an operation.
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I was fifteen. I had lost one tooth 3 years previously from unwisely breaking my fall with my face in the school playground and again 3 months later while trampolining during P.E.! The gap didn't bother me too much as I wore an acrylic denture. It was a pink plastic U shape with a tooth attached to the front. Looked rather comical. It fitted fine but sometimes I would unintentionally whistle with the letter S. These things are not conducive to being a happy well-adjusted 15yr old but then at 15 your life is ruined by everything anyway.
The original plan to cap the neighbouring tooth as if it were front tooth and allowing my wisdom teeth (when they come through) to push the teeth and close the gap was abandoned when it was clear I had no wisdom teeth to come through at the top. I had wisdom teeth in my lower jaw but none at the top.
Worse still, the x-rays also showed grey blobs above three other teeth. Seems the impact of the accident had caused cysts to develop at the roots of these three and these would need removing.
So an appointment was booked. I was to have three teeth extracted. An dyou know what? That is really not so bad. I was even struck by how not too bad it was when the dentist got a little curved pick and started to scrape around (loudly!) in the cavity. I noted the small, pink bag of fluid hanging from the dental pick as he put it in the tray, as I got ready for the next unmistakable sound/sensation of having someone scrape metal around in your tooth cavity just below the nose.
After a while, he sewed me up. Stitches reached from one canine to the next and up into the top lip. Quite the beauty queen. Mum went to reception to book my follow up appointment. I stood up out of the dentist chair and my knees wobbled a bit. Shakily I made my way to the receptionists desk when the world suddenly went a bit grey. The room was disappearing and I became acutely aware of my breakfast, which was currently announcing its plans to exit via my mouth. I couldn't actually see as something had happened to my vision so I said:
"mum, I think I'm going to be sick"
yes, 4 o'clock will be fine, she can...
"mum, I'm going to be sick"
yes, in a minute, I'm just ...
"mum, I'm going to throw up RIGHT NOW
at which point the reception dashed out from behind her desk and showed me where the toilets where, instructing me not to lock the door. I lent over the sink and splashed water on my face, crouched against the wall and waited for the room to come back out of the grey haze. It was like the headrush you get from standing up too fast but not nearly as much fun.
That was the last time I was ever ok about going to the dentist. My dentist phobia is not like your dentist phobia.
So my memories of the last major procedure do not exactly fill me with enthusiams for the next. Especially when the procedure sounds even worse. Here is what they do (people of a squeamish disposition with a good imagination, read no further):
They cut open the gum and pack out the area at the front (behind the top lip) with bovine bonemeal. I am assured this ground up cow is a) not the same stuff you put in your garden t help your roses, b) easily accepted into the body and c) won't give me grass cravings.
Then the drill two holes into the bone at opposite ends of the gap. Here is where I might experience some 'discomfort' (read: pain). They will be tapping into the bone and then use a vibrating device to seperate the bone to make the drill hole wider. This is because (due to bone loss) the ridge of bone holding the implant has shrunk to not much wider than the implant itself so they stretch the gap instead. Turns out it's not just a case of drilling a hole and putting in a rawl plug and screwing some teeth onto it. Oh and the best bit is I'll be fully conscious the whole time. Isn't that great?
Hopefully this time I won't go into shock and throw up all over reception.
Landlord has offered to hold my hand which is sweet but he'd only be sitting in reception worrying and I want to be able to look a little less like the bride of Frankenstein before I see him again.
After the procedure I will be £2500 poorer so if the procedure doesn't have me pass out, the bill might.
The new teeth don't get attached for another 4 months so I won't know whether I'll be Janet Street-Porter or not until then and frankly that's the easy part.
And then I'll have teeth again like you! So remember folks, take care of your teeth. The less a dentist has to do to you the better for everyone (except the dentist). Don't ever take them for granted. And if you ever fall of a trampoline, try to hit the floor with something other than your front teeth.
