Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Toofs again.........


As my loyal readers will recall, I have been visiting a dental specialist (endodontist/ orthodontist/ upyourdontist...whatever) since April.
My regular dentist/dentist had referred me to him when I had a crowned tooth which had already had the luxury of a root canal, fail.
I had an infection in the bone next to the roots of this tooth.
Many visits, many treatments and much money later, on September 1st to be exact, he told me I was all done and it was all ticketty boo.
He would see me next summer (bliss and joy) for a check up on it.
He was wrong.
A mere two weeks later something evil stirred in that vile root ridden jungle.
It started to ache.
Not the just the tooth but the jaw, ear and right up to my eye.
I tried to put up with it thinking that maybe it was just some left over inflammation kicking around in there but by Wednesday last week I had had enough.
I phoned him and told him and arranged another visit for that afternoon.
He really couldn't figure out what was going on and as a last resort he could (you might want to read this bit through your fingers) surgically cut into and fold back the gum, drill out the bone of my jaw, bugger about with it a bit (technical term that I don't think he used) and then stitch it all up again.
Of course this too might fail.
I told him I didn't actually fancy this too much.
So we agreed the tooth had to go.
He said the oral surgeon was still about and if I stayed where I was he would get him to look in on me and explain what they would do as this being a tooth that had been so worked on ( and what with it being weighed down by its little bags full of money), it would be rather brittle and could cause problems.
So, I sat and waited.

I heard another lady come in and go into the next room.
I then heard another male voice in the room with this other lady.
He started explaining to her, in gory detail, how best they could remove her tooth. He explained the sedation, how long she would be asleep, how this carried some risks and how she would be afterwards. She would need someone with her and wouldn't allowed to drive for 24 hours etc.
I could hear the lady hesitantly agree with everything he said.
But, I was bloody sure he was supposed to be saying this to me.
He went on to explain to her how he had done 5000 of these procedures. How they would put her under but only lightly, not dangerously so.
She nervously agreed.......again.
After a few minutes I heard my bloke go in there. There was some mumbled chat followed by profuse apologies to this poor woman.
The surgeon then came into my room.

"Oh dear," he said, "I have just terrified the woman in the next room who is only here for treatment".
"I know," I replied," I heard you."
"Oh well," he said, " there isn't any point going through all that again.
I did my best not to laugh.

This type of thing happens wherever I go. Nothing is ever straightforward.
Anyway, the upshot was that I went in at 6.45am the next morning, Thursday.
The nurse sorted me out and the surgeon stuck the needle in my arm. The next thing I knew I was awake with a stitched up gob. I left armed with painkillers and antibiotics.
Philip brought me home and I slept most of the day.
I know I complain about the cost of everything over here (and this poxy tooth has cost an awful lot of money) but you do get service.
The surgeon phoned at around 9.30pm that evening to ask Philip how I was doing.
I was impressed with that.
The swelling is starting to subside now and the stitches should dissolve after around 10 days.
Hopefully I will be able to eat something more than yoghurt , scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes soon.
Good excuse to eat ice cream though.

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