Is it due to a nice cake, midget gems or a hunky man? No, I have to keep checking the corner of my mouth because I’ve had a filling in my wisdom tooth. I obviously needed a top up.
When we were on holiday I noticed a mark on two of my upper backish teeth which I assumed was decay. During my SCT holiday my teeth had been a bit, well I’ll go with sensitive but odd is probably a better description. When I attempted to force down chocolate or anything sugary they felt kinda of like sensitive teeth with hot and cold, but not quite. Anyhoo, it passed until I had a slight tingle on holiday (lucky me!). On checking in the mirror I spotted the mark, gave it a prod and called the dentist.
It’s been about two years since I’ve been. Initially because I couldn’t have sat in the chair (due to back pain) and then with one thing and a SCT I neglected it. The good news was I’ve been a good girl and looked after my teeth. When the new dentist said he was impressed at the condition of my teeth I thought it was somehow myeloma related however it turned out he was impressed because I was the first patient he’d seen since he’d been there that didn’t need a scale and polish. I did however need the aforementioned filling. The marks on the other two teeth were stained rather than decayed, so when I went back for the filling the dentist would give them a scale and see if he could remove the marks, which he considered had been caused by some of the medication I’d been taking.
So off we trundled today. For some reason whenever B has had to take me to the dentist he doesn’t come in and wait. It doesn’t bother him, B is a regular attendee at his own dentist, but considering all the other appointments he comes with me to, somehow a dentist is different.
In I went and the very newly qualified dentist (June – I asked) talks me through everything. Now I’m pretty sure my previous dentist who has left the practice didn’t do this – only pretty sure because he had an Irish or maybe Scottish, definitely celtic accent – it was hard to tell he was so softly spoken. So he could very well have been telling me exactly what he was doing whilst I thought he was talking to the dental nurse about what he’d had for lunch!
Two injections and a stain removing polish later, things weren’t quite as numb as they should have been. The head honcho was called for a bit of advice, after an explanation on nerves branching off in two directions and my bone being very near to the surface. Head honcho then injected again, saying that sometimes it’s not the exact placement of the needle but the speed the numbing agent is administered that makes a difference – it has chance to, and I quote, percolate!
So after three lots of anaesthetic and a chat about the dental hospital where Dr K had trained and where I had been, we had reached a suitable point of percolation whereby I was numb from the back of my mouth to the middle of my lower lip, the left side of my tongue but I could still feel a tiny bit of a scratch on the inside gum. Head honcho was called again after the reassuring exchange
Me: ‘I could only feel it a tiny bit.’
Dr K: (who wears winkle pickers with points that could probably extract a tooth on their own): ‘Yes, but I don’t want to hurt you. We don’t want to start and find that I’ve done the hole and then …’ Which, in my opinion, is something you DO want to hear from a dentist.
Head honcho stated, after some technical spiel which included some word beginning with L, that he thought everything should be fine. I piped up that we didn’t want to hear what he thought, rather what he knew!
Head honcho: ‘It will be fine.’ Reopening the door slightly ‘Well, it should be!’
And it was!
Dr K and I had a little chat regarding me changing to Zometa, such as the further implications of this over Bonefos with regard to any future procedures, and I’ll see him again for a check up in six months
I said to B when we got home that if he felt like giving me a slap this might be a good time. Apparently he never feels this way which is quite something given my little singing performance this morning. I can’t sing. I know this for a fact, without people telling me. I can’t for the life of me understand people who go on the X-factor and make some horrendous spectacle of themselves and look stunned and disbelieving when they are informed they can’t sing. (Hey I’m not saying it’s not funny – I just can’t understand them.) Sometimes however, in the privacy of my own home, the knowledge that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket doesn’t stop me and this morning was one of those occasions.
‘Joy to the world, to every boy and girl. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, Joy to you and me.’
It’s on the CD in the car, I don’t even know the correct name of the song, and this is the only bit I know so it was repeated and repeated whilst I was having a shower and getting ready. Awwww my husband truly loves me, ummm or maybe it’s that I’m still too numb to sing!
(Footnote – You may need some sort of receptacle to hand – in case of a gippy stomach
B, who as we know has only ever read about three of my posts, has read this one and would like me to point out that my singing this morning in no way offended his senses, in fact, if anything, it made him happy because I was happy! –
Quick reach for the bin!)