Let’s Talk Implants
As if I didn’t have enough medical drama on my plate over the last few months. Not only did I have an appendix to deal with and the subsequent frozen shoulder, one of my two remaining baby teeth finally gave up the fight.
Haaaaa I bet you thought I meant breast implants. No, thanks to my paternal Grandmother Thelma, I’ve got plenty of boob. I have lost some volume during the appendix drama due to weight loss but they were a little too full for my liking the last few years so I’m perfectly happy with this new version of the girls. I’m talking dental implants. Not only did I have an appendix to deal with and the subsequent frozen shoulder, one of my two remaining baby teeth finally gave up the fight. You know because I didn’t already have enough going on. Yes, at 54 I still had two baby teeth in my mouth. The exact same tooth on each side of my bottom jaw never had an adult tooth push it out to take its place. I didn’t even realize they were there until I was in my thirties and my dentist said something. He said that while it wasn’t typical for them to last this long they had good strong roots and they were healthy so we would try to keep them in as long as possible.
The little guy on the left side started giving me trouble about a year ago. I noticed a jagged ridge next to the gum line. Then I started to notice it was looking a little hollow, I could see food bits getting stuck inside it. Thankfully my sister had worked for Waterpik and sent me one so I was able to flush it out but it started to concern me. When we were in California for a wedding last May, I scheduled an appointment with my dentist for a look at it. Yes I still go to a dentist 3000 miles away. I figure it’s twice a year and it gives us a reason to head west for a few days, see friends and eat fish tacos. I love my dentist so it was a no brainer, he’s taken very good care of my teeth for a very long time. He took X-rays and confirmed that it was starting to resorb which is a fancy way of saying my body was breaking it down and assimilating the tissue. He said it would probably break off at some point and to be careful chewing crunchy things, but it could happen in a month or it could be a year.
I was only a little comforted by this news as I had grown very fond of this little deciduous molar. I didn’t want to lose my tooth. I didn’t want to have a hillbilly gap in my smile. I’ve been diligent about oral hygiene and felt like I had somehow failed and I hate to fail. Even though rationally I knew there was really nothing I could do about my body’s natural process or the fact that I had been born without adult molars to come in and pinch hit for these little tired teeth. I went home prepared to be careful with chewing and to stay vigilant with brushing and flossing.
Fast forward to the Waldorf saga and the heavy duty antibiotics wreaking havoc on my system. There was easily a week where I felt like I had carpet in my mouth from an overgrowth of yeast before I could get ahead of it with Floristor. Worried that the drugs could be damaging my teeth I reached out to an old friend of Scott’s who is an oral surgeon, but also had a mother who raised her on wheat grass shots to get some advice. Dr. Debbie assured me my teeth would be fine and to up my Vitamin C in the meantime. My system settled back down pretty quickly on the probiotic and I was feeling pretty good after the surgery but still had a bit of concern over this little tooth. We were going to California for work so I reached out and asked Dr. Debbie if she would take a look at it and give me her opinion.
Three weeks after my appendix was removed I was sitting in Debbie’s chair after an X-ray and hearing her tell me the best course of action would be to pull the tooth that day. Yes, it still had a healthy root, yes I could wait for it to break off on it’s own, yes it would be pain free but it would come with it’s own set of complications. Debbie has the sweetest, most calming demeanor and while I trusted her completely and knew she was right, I burst into tears. Maybe because of her wonderful bedside manner I was able to just be vulnerable and sad. While I knew this was inevitable, I was not prepared mentally or emotionally to do it that day. I was tapped out after the previous two months of health drama. But she quieted my emotions with her expertise and holistic approach that included PRP for healing. Even though it would require yet another of my favorite blood draws, I knew I was in good hands. PRP stands for platelet rich plasma and it is used to improve the bone formation when a bone graft is done after an extraction. I will eventually have an implant placed and I want to have healthy tissue for the implant to be successful and last me for years to come.
My veins had other ideas about the blood draw and as soon as Debbie started assessing my arms, they disappeared. I can’t say I blame them after two stays in the hospital but I was not amused by their cat and mouse game in that moment. I just wanted that part over with. Debbie sent her assistant Janet to find a rubber ball for me to squeeze to coax them out and when she returned all she could find was a Valentine Gnome with Janet’s name emblazoned across it’s chest. The office manager is very festive. The gnome was relegated to the counter while my arm was tourniquet’d and I made fists furiously to get a vein to the surface long enough for Debbie to get a needle in. Teamwork makes the dream work as they say and a few vials of blood later, the procedure was underway. As she was numbing me up and putting the nerve block in, I sheepishly asked if I could hold the Janet Gnome. I maybe 54 but little Chelle was in need of some serious soothing. While I didn’t feel a thing and it was relatively quick, I can’t say that poor little gnome wasn’t a little more bald when I was done with it.
Debbie did an amazing job and 9 weeks later I can say my gum and jaw feel very good. I still have a few months of healing before we start the process of putting in the implant and in the meantime I have a little faux tooth to put in so my teeth don’t move and so people don’t start calling me Chelle Mae Clampett. IYKYK. For being a “baby tooth”, that little guy left a way bigger hole than I was expecting. Thankfully it’s off to the side and is not really noticeable when I am speaking. For as traumatic as it felt in real time, I’ve come to accept that it’s gone. It served me so well and I know it doesn’t say anything about me as a person to have a missing tooth. I am not sure I believed that before. Unfortunately I didn’t get to keep it, as it had to be cracked to get it out. I bet I could have gotten top dollar from the Tooth Fairy.
