TOOTH IMPLANT IS A PIECE OF CAKE

When I mention having recently had a tooth implant started, I get sympathetic groans. It surprises me. I found mine a rather pleasant experience.

The initial prepping was holding some mint-flavored, chlorhexidine oral rinse in my mouth for 60 seconds. The worst of that was that I couldn't speak for that full minute, which those in the room appreciated far more than I. I was sterilized around my mouth and face and covered over my neck, chest and arms. I had opted for local anesthesia. Getting general anesthesia at my age does not do good things to one's brain. Numbing my jaw was simple and painless, unless you consider a mosquito bite as excruciatingly painful. We told jokes while waiting for my jaw to numb. Immediately I got an itch beside my nose and went to scratch it but quickly told I must not touch my face. Apparently the nurses are ready with a tissue to take away itches as they are identified, which put a stop to that Murphy's Law.

The two nurses and the doctor were three of the most pleasant people I could possibly have encountered. We told jokes while waiting for my jaw to numb. Then the roots of the last tenant in that spot of my jaw were eased out. I might mention that my oral surgeon used to be a pro-football player. It makes the task of extraction more simple when strong hands are working to release roots broken off at the gum line. Then I got the sound of the saw mill. The hole in my jaw, which was to receive the implant post, was drilled. The excess bone was made into a slurry and packed around the post to anchor it as the bone pieces would begin to knit. Stitches were applied to the pulled gum, covering the hole. Feeling great, I drove home to put ice packs on every 15 minutes. As the Novocaine wore off, I knew something had happened in my mouth but never experienced any significant pain. I liked the cold packs because it was a very hot day but really didn't require them for pain or swelling. Swelling was quite slight.

I continued to follow instructions to use the mouthwash given , twice a day for 30 seconds and an anti-biotic, four times a day. While I had a prescription for a pain killer, it was never needed. One week later the stitches were removed. The pain was no different than when I have stuck my finger with a needle while sewing. I was pronounced as doing very well, healing well, and told to come back for an x-ray in two months.

For any of you who may be facing an implant, have no fear. The worst is the fear itself.

NATURE BALANCING THE ODDS

Life never goes in a straight, eventful line of good things and happy circumstances. The night I was called with the news that a very close friend had a heart attack and was in critical condition, I bit into a blackberry and found my mouth contained a floating tooth. A crowned tooth broke off at the root. I hasten to describe the blackberry as the soft kind that grows on a bush, not the hard kind that acts like a typewriter, phone, database, and all but cooks your breakfast.

My immediate first move, after picking out the rootless tooth, was to put my tongue into the space. There, between tooth #9 and tooth #11 (I think) was a replica of the grand canyon. Great shock and disappointment resulted when I realized there was not enough tooth left to have the crown reset. The cheek flesh that got sucked into the gap felt soft and fluffy, not like when my tongue roamed the rest of my cheek.

All that having been checked out, my next magnet was the mirror. Why does a missing tooth, next to a front tooth, instantly profile an identity out of Disney as the wicked stepmother traveling incognito. Back to the mirror, I practiced just how large a smile I could allow before the old hag appeared. Apparently not much. My greatest pleasure in life is a good belly laugh so I fantasied using a fan in front of my face but knew that wouldn't fly in the office.

Off to the dentist who was to pull the root out. His nurse held up a full set of x-rays and it looked like an archaeological find. He said he thought he should do the implant immediately after pulling the root, before the bone had time to crumble around the hole. He suggested, when he saw my shock, as I was thinking how long I would be sporting the Big Dig every time I opened my mouth, I should see my regular dentist to have a 'flipper' made. In six days I could get the next available appointment to have an impression taken, whereupon a new group whom they have not tried before will make up the flipper (hopefully not in New Delhi) but they could not tell me just exactly how long I would have to blow air through the channel between my teeth when I try to say anything with "Eff" or "Ess" in it.

My root extraction and implant will happen on September 4th as someone had canceled. I quietly wondered what would have happened if the root were giving me pain. However, respectfully unwilling to take a time away from someone who truly might have been suffering, other than vanity, I accepted the offer, made the appointment to be measured for the 'flipper', and went on my merry way happily escaping a sore jaw for another month, I hope.