Dread

If you’ve been around for a while, you’ll know that last summer I had a dental disaster.

Well, the “solution” is about to kick off and take over my life for several months.

On Tuesday I have to get the ferry to town to have my front tooth ripped out. I cannot begin to express how much I am fucking dreading that.

The next day I’ll be going to my dentist on the island to be fitted with a temporary front tooth attached to a clear plastic fitting that goes over all my upper teeth. I’m told it will take a few days to adjust to this, during which time it may affect my speech. Oh, goodie.

I’ve already begun, as instructed, a course of antibiotics. Tomorrow I’m supposed to begin the other “treatment”: some medicated mouthwash that is meant to prevent infection and strengthen the gums. Said mouthwash must be swilled around my mouth three times a day for 30 seconds before spitting it out. After that nothing (not even a sip of water) can pass my lips for half an hour. (Suspect the fitting must also be removed during these times, probably also overnight.)

The pharmacist told me the three-times-a-day regime for this prescription-only mouthwash should be after meals.

This presupposes that I actually have three meals a day. Quite often I don’t. Quite often, like this morning, I get up, make myself a cappuccino and sit down at the computer. Depending on what I’m doing and how engrossed I am, I can easily sit here at the computer until one or even two in the afternoon before I have anything to eat. Then, around teatime, I’ll have a banana or a biscuit (or at the moment a small slice of my friend Irmani’s Christmas cake) to keep me ticking over until I make myself some dinner around 7pm.

This will require getting up, making a cappuccino, eating some granola, rinsing my mouth before sitting down at the computer. (I was going to try kicking that off this morning, but I haven’t. Oops.) It’s also going to require a lot of use of the iPhone (thank you, John) – first to confirm that I’ve been swishing the mouthwash for the requisite 30 seconds, then to let me know when my half hour is up. When I told the pharmacist (who, it turns out, has been through this himself for his own implant) that I hoped the mouthwash at least tasted okay, the expression on his face confirmed that it does not. Gawd.

Said fitting and accompanying palaver must be worn and borne for a minimum of six months while the bone in my jaw re-establishes itself to the point that the implant can be drilled in. Emphasis on the word minimum. The six-month minimum could actually be nine months, perhaps longer. Christ.

I’d already written off the possibility of getting back to the UK next summer. (No way I’m going anywhere while I still have to take my front tooth out for half an hour three time a day.) Nine months would take me to September. But it could be longer.

Still, would I feel confident in travelling to the UK next September? Given the new fiasco of vaccine roll out there, probably not.

Good thing my BA travel voucher is good until 30 April 2022. That sounds doable. And by then I will definitely have my new, $5000 front tooth. I just hope I live long enough to get my money’s worth.