I don’t like going to the dentist. My dentist is fine, he’s actually adorable, and he has a pug, and I console myself with the idea that he’d rather be home with his pug as opposed to shoving fillings in my teeth as much as I’d rather be home with mine. But still, we find ourselves together way too much, if you ask me.
Last year I faced the conundrum as to whether I wanted a bridge on my front teeth (the long ago root canalled peg of tooth busted and set my crown free, and left a large gap right in front) or if I wanted a titanium peg and the assurance that I’d never need to deal with that particular tooth again. The bridge involved filing down the other teeth around it a little to sit the bridge on… and on the one hand, I hated the idea of filing down perfectly good teeth to cover with fake teeth to support another fake tooth, but the fact is… it isn’t like I could call the others “perfectly good teeth.” It isn’t like I’ve been able to do that for years. They’re okay. They’re in there with relatively few fillings.
The titanium peg would involve bone and gum grafts, and take a year to heal enough to get the permanent tooth in, and in the meantime I would still have to wear a temporary flip denture partial bridge… which truthfully sounded like such a pain in the ass and like a choking hazard if shit went wrong (and shit would go wrong, believe me. It just would) for a whole year. I know how long I take to heal. I know how my teeth are with bonding and I know how coordinated I am with things that can be described as “flippable.” It’s a goddamn problem. It was a thousand bucks more than the bridge, too, but actually that’s not a whole lot more. Here’s the thing. I was 46 years old then. I am not getting younger, and fuck it, in the last ten months I can’t see the average lifespan for a lady with a fucky immune system and a family history of cardiovascular issues going up, and the bridge was three dentist visits and the implant would be twelve and just… fuck that shit. The way shit is going, even if the bridge was done like crap and it lasted the average fifteen years or so that they last with care… Eh. I would cross that bridge (see what I did there?) when I got there.
Anyway, they did a lovely job on it, and there’s this fucking awesome floss that has a stiff end and a floofy middle and then it is floss and you thread it through the top of the bridge and floss that way and it’s actually really easy to get at, so that’s cool. Plus, hey, I can limit dentist visits during the pandemic!
Nope. So I have this back tooth, bottom jaw, and the tooth breaks around the filling. So then I have this filling, with the roots, and a hole. This was in June. I have the option of a crown, or yanking the motherfucker. I chose to yank. That was a process, because I apparently had twice as many roots as I should have, and the dentist, being a good guy, didn’t want to leave any behind. So x rays and all that, the damn thing is finally free. And I’m that weird lady with the non wisdom tooth molar with four roots.
And it hurt, in a weird nagging but not excruciating way, and I think the plug fell out and it is taking its damn time healing, but fine. It’s fine. But they like to check and we had cleanings scheduled and given the pandemic I would have skipped the cleaning. But I had that fucker pulled so I felt like I couldn’t.
And now I get to go back twice because I have fillings (three) that need done and of course can’t be all on the same side of my mouth. I might just ask them to numb it all and do it at once. It’s not like it’s a huge advantage to only have half your face numb. Then I can get it over with and not have half my face numb twice in the same week.
It’s so tempting to just hide my head in the sand and not go though. Dammit.