I had a dentist appointment yesterday to determine what could be done with my remaining teeth. Everyone that knows me knows that I've had dental problems for YEARS. And this is not one of those times that I'm being dramatic. I legit mean my entire life kind of years.
And unfortunately, dental problems aren't just a vain "I don't look good" (even though I in fact do not) kind of situation. On top of being mortifying (yes I'm missing one of my front teeth and yes it's an issue for me) it's also increasingly painful. I honestly can't remember the last time I ate or slept or hell, even just sat there without a constant throbbing or ache in my mouth.
Shit gets old real quick and frankly, years later, I am beyond over this big bag of dicks.
I've had so much dental work done. SO. MUCH. Thousands upon thousands of dollars trying not to be in pain and look halfway decent and it was all for not. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I didn't have the thousands of dollars to begin with. It was a I needed to have it done and had to pay on it for months at a time to pay it off deal. Which I know is how most people have to go about these types of things, but damn, when it's draining your bank account it hurts.
Especially when it ends up not working out. I mean, two and a half years ago I had a double root canal on my two front teeth and they're in horrible shape. Seriously, they're both broken and I'm incredibly paranoid that I'm going to wake up one morning and be missing one or both of my front teeth.
That's the extent of it.
I have to eat ibuprofen like it's goldfish crackers and actually eating? Pfft. I have to cut my food into small pieces or try to shove everything to one side of my mouth to bite and/or chew, because I can't actually use my front teeth to bite anything. They're too weak.
To say it's frustrating would be an understatement. Mostly because I've always had good oral hygiene. Actually, good hygiene in general. We didn't have a lot growing up, but Momma always made sure we looked nice and were clean. We couldn't afford expensive things, but you best believe we afforded soap, toothpastes, all the essentials for hygienic purposes and care. Throughout my entire life I have brushed my teeth twice a day, flossed regularly and use mouthwash. Still to this day. But, do my teeth care that I try to maintain and be nice to them?
Hell no. They're ungrateful.
They're too soft to hold any proper fillings and they're constantly wearing down and snapping themselves off at any given moment. They're sensitive to everything (hot, cold, sweet, savory, doesn't really matter). And my tongue is constantly raw and burning. It makes swallowing and getting through the day real sweet. Probably doesn't help that I have the horrible habit of clenching and grinding my teeth without realizing it, but here we are.
And there I sat. Explaining to my new dentist all the things I've had done to my teeth and how I take care of them and how many problems I've had and keep having. Trying to explain and make him see that I have been trying my entire life to get a handle on this situation and can't seem to hold that grasp. Recalling the times I've had to have teeth pulled from horrible pain. And there have been many. More than many. A plethora really. The man took one look at my x-rays and calmly explained to me that he could see all the work and how hard I've tried. He explained that it wasn't my fault, sometimes these things just happen no matter what we do.
I was speechless. Because never once in all my time explaining what my teeth are doing has a dentist actually looked me dead ass in the face and understood where I was coming from. He just got it. Didn't think I was crazy or dramatic. Didn't question why I was this frustrated with my mouth at thirty-two years old. Didn't try to talk me into some ridiculously expensive procedure that wasn't going to work out and keep me in the same sinking boat I've been paddling in. Nope. Dude literally just looked at my x-rays, listened to what I had to say and explained why he thought it was happening and what we could do to help. That's it. That's all the man had to say and offer. No judgment or superiority, just understanding and solution.
Shit blew my entire mind.
So that's where we came up with a plan. And that's when I put down the money to have the work done. D and I had already discussed my situation and he informed me "do what needs to be done, we'll make it work, I'm tired of you hurting all the time." It was less than we thought it was going to be, but still hurts me to think about.
And what is the plan? Well.... luckily, my bottom teeth aren't too bad. They could use a little TLC, but they're not in horrible shape. Mostly because every time one of my bottom teeth have hurt it's been so excruciating that I've had it yanked out of my head as soon as possible. So, those are on the back burner (for now).
The real issue is my top row. I literally have no good and/or salvageable teeth up there. Therefore, I go in on 5/4 to have a few back teeth pulled and an impression made. From there, we'll set up another appointment and when I go in then, they'll pull the remaining teeth in the front and slide a plate right in.
Am I nervous? F*ck yes. Am I excited to not have that constant pain anymore? Also, f*ck yes. Am I excited about the healing time, paying off the money we had to spend, or having to get used to having a denture plate at thirty-two years old? F*ck no.
But, at the end of the day, this is what is best and I'm so exhausted trying to find another solution. Then again, I honestly think this one is the best and only one I have, so there's no more looking. The plan is set in motion.
And here my nervous little self sits waiting for this shit to get on with.
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