The teeth post

Well, the deed is done. My old failing bridge, the third incarnation in thirtysix years, is history, and in its place are two thick titanium posts, a pinch of powdered cowbone, and a handful of sutures, mostly covered up with an ill fitting temporary partial denture and decorated with a big fat lip. I've had cuter weeks.

The surgery went as expected, mostly. My surgeon, Dr P, implanted the posts, I dutifully got sick, and now I look dreadful. The bonus (isn't there always a bonus?)is that when I got home and recovered enough to feel around with my tongue, something was very wrong with one of my teeth, an innocent bystander caught too near the drilling and chiseling. A decent crown broke apart--the whole rear surface sheared off, and the bottom corner was gone. As I said, I've had cuter weeks.

I went back to see Dr P, who said the tooth was fine when he left the room, implying that something happened to it while I was sleeping off my anesthesia. He wasn't having any of the old retail adage 'you break it, you buy it'. Since he got all the money I have, now we have a problem. Tomorrow, I go see my reliable longterm dentist, Dr Z, so he can weigh in with his opinion. I may need to wait until January when the new teeth get attached to the posts, so the whole set will match. He also has to do something with the partial, which at this point is so thick my back teeth don't even touch. Soon I will be ready to eat chewy food but am hampered by the shortage of teeth with which to chew. I will also be counting on him to strike some sort of deal with Dr P.

On the homefront, A. replaced the punctured garbage disposer and also defragmented this laptop and struck a peace agreement with the router, so I'm back on the couch where I belong. His meager salary: a batch of cookies and some lunch. I win!

So that is the whiny story of having my teeth pulled, as promised. My nightmare wasn't too far off the mark, but I am still hoping for a happy ending. In the meantime, I really need to have a flatter lip and some mealtime options by Saturday, when I premier my new puffylipped, snaggletoothed look at work.

Postscript: Today, Dr Z took care of the wonky partial, smoothed the ragged crown, and assured me that I would not be charged for the damages. I love Dr Z. I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Its a long way, though, until January.