Dental Hell
I went to the dentist this morning to look at the x-rays taken last week. At least eight teeth have to come out. Maybe nine. I can hardly wait. I wont have to live with a constantly throbbing skull. Ill be able to eat without having to be careful about how I chew to avoid excruciating pain. I would be just as happy for them to take everything out and just give me dentures. The embarrassment of having dentures at thirty would pale in comparison to the relief of not having a clusterfuck in my mouth. People have no idea.
How did it come to this? When I was fifteen one of my molars was cracked in half and since my father was one to blow off any concerns I brought up about my health it wasnt tended to. It constantly hurt in a bad way and I couldnt chew on that side of my mouth without being in shrieking pain. Since brushing that area of my mouth was torture I stopped taking care of my teeth and the broken tooth began rotting from the inside out, leaving me with terrible breath and the constant taste of blood and decay. I just had to learn to live with it, though, because I was fifteen and didnt know what I could do about it on my own. Ive always had a fear of medical people anyway.
Over time, more teeth got broken and nothing was done about it. I can think of at least five distinctive times my teeth have been broken. Three in fights, one by Kendra when I was tickling her, and one from chewing something that was a lot harder than it was supposed to have been. The most recent of these was five years ago. There has been one point where the pain got so excruciating that I pulled the tooth out myself. Id gotten so used to fighting the war against my mouth alone that after a long time the thought of seeing the dentist no longer even occurred to me. It wasnt until I got with Debra that the issue came up while I was with someone who actually had the presence of mind to take me to a dentist. Unfortunately, I still had my dislike of all things medical working against me so I only sought attention when the pain hit the top of the meter.
Mostly it was a matter of not wanting to spend money on my mouth. A couple of years ago Debra found me a place that did dental work for poor people cheap and I went in and got examined. An appointment was made to get started on trying to save my mouth, but it was for two months after the exam and in the time in between Daniel died and it was months before I was capable of getting on with life so I missed my appointment and my feelings of anxiety and guilt about missing my appointment kept me from going back.
Now I have dental insurance and Im aiming to get this dealt with, come hell or high water. I really appreciate how helpful Debras been in getting me past my anxiety issues that have made doing anything about this extremely challenging. If not for her Id probably still be ignoring it or pulling my own teeth out with pliers again.
I went to the dentist this morning to look at the x-rays taken last week. At least eight teeth have to come out. Maybe nine. I can hardly wait. I wont have to live with a constantly throbbing skull. Ill be able to eat without having to be careful about how I chew to avoid excruciating pain. I would be just as happy for them to take everything out and just give me dentures. The embarrassment of having dentures at thirty would pale in comparison to the relief of not having a clusterfuck in my mouth. People have no idea.
How did it come to this? When I was fifteen one of my molars was cracked in half and since my father was one to blow off any concerns I brought up about my health it wasnt tended to. It constantly hurt in a bad way and I couldnt chew on that side of my mouth without being in shrieking pain. Since brushing that area of my mouth was torture I stopped taking care of my teeth and the broken tooth began rotting from the inside out, leaving me with terrible breath and the constant taste of blood and decay. I just had to learn to live with it, though, because I was fifteen and didnt know what I could do about it on my own. Ive always had a fear of medical people anyway.
Over time, more teeth got broken and nothing was done about it. I can think of at least five distinctive times my teeth have been broken. Three in fights, one by Kendra when I was tickling her, and one from chewing something that was a lot harder than it was supposed to have been. The most recent of these was five years ago. There has been one point where the pain got so excruciating that I pulled the tooth out myself. Id gotten so used to fighting the war against my mouth alone that after a long time the thought of seeing the dentist no longer even occurred to me. It wasnt until I got with Debra that the issue came up while I was with someone who actually had the presence of mind to take me to a dentist. Unfortunately, I still had my dislike of all things medical working against me so I only sought attention when the pain hit the top of the meter.
Mostly it was a matter of not wanting to spend money on my mouth. A couple of years ago Debra found me a place that did dental work for poor people cheap and I went in and got examined. An appointment was made to get started on trying to save my mouth, but it was for two months after the exam and in the time in between Daniel died and it was months before I was capable of getting on with life so I missed my appointment and my feelings of anxiety and guilt about missing my appointment kept me from going back.
Now I have dental insurance and Im aiming to get this dealt with, come hell or high water. I really appreciate how helpful Debras been in getting me past my anxiety issues that have made doing anything about this extremely challenging. If not for her Id probably still be ignoring it or pulling my own teeth out with pliers again.
KRISS