Going Toothless

2 December, 13

What do you get when you put 32 Gamecock fans in one room? A full set of teeth. Or a full prison cell. Both apply...

My luck has worn out when it comes to teeth. I have always had some tough choppers, as evidenced by the fact that two people have broken their hands on my face. Evidently one of my teeth has been broken for quite some time, and it just decided to start wiggling last week.

My tooth started to come loose on the Friday afternoon when we were hosting our first Thanksgiving party. Susan was slaving away in our kitchen, getting an entire Thanksgiving menu together. Knowing how important cooking this Thanksgiving meal was to Susan, I was playing an intense game of Padel all morning. It's the little things like getting out of her way, when she is so busy, that make me so endearing as a husband. I could have been right beside her, helping peel chestnuts or potatoes or apples. I could have taken out the 15 pound turkey and flipped it over midway through the cooking process. I could have, but that would have robbed Susan of the joy of being able to say that she did it all by herself. No I didn't want to take a single iota of credit from her, so I actually removed myself from the temptation of stealing her glory. If only Adam had been so wise...

So when I got home, I noticed a little electric twinge in my mouth. You might remember it from your childhood days when your teeth were loose. I grabbed the tooth and gently wiggled to confirm the input. Having lost all my baby teeth long ago, I was not very happy about this new development, but what to do?

Now if you live in America, you call your dentist. If you live in a small town, you call your friend, who is a dentist. If you live in Spain? Normally I would call Julio, who is like the Godfather of La Alberca. He knows everybody. The whole town is either a cigarette customer or family or friend or some combination of those three. At this point, however, I have begun to establish my own network. A few weeks ago, we had a Halloween party, and invited our downstairs neighbors, Juan and Katy, to come. Juan is a local and Katy is from the USA. We joke that the town has all the Americans quarantined in one building. They invited their friends to come along as well.

As it turns out the new guy, also named Juan, is a dentist and lives just down the street from us. He is young and handsome, with straight teeth. People in Spain, and I think much of Europe, seem to have crooked teeth. Perhaps they are not as obsessive about their smiles as we are, but it is interesting to note that most Spaniards do not show teeth when they smile. Orthodontics is an elective procedure here, so many people don't take advantage of it. Somehow they are still able to live a normal and healthy life, which is a testament to their grit and determination to live and overcome incredible adversities such as crooked teeth.

So I texted Juan and asked him what I should do. He told me to come in to his office that same day, which is pretty impressive. Try to get a same day appointment at any doctor's office. His practice is in another town, so he actually met me at my building, and I followed him there. After a little probing and a radiograph, he determined that my tooth was actually broken below the gum line, and it needed to come out. I would need to get an implant to replace it. This tooth is on the bottom, right in front. It is one of my incisors. I only have three. Most people have four, but I think one of mine was taken out when I got braces the first time. I am pretty sure it is tooth number 24 on the diagram.

Before he could remove the tooth, I needed to get a scan to make sure the jawbone wasn't infected, so we scheduled that and another appointment for the extraction and implant. I went home and tried to eat all that yummy Thanksgiving food, while judiciously avoiding my newly discovered broken tooth.

The following week, I went back for a visit to Dr. Juan, with Susan in tow. She is a much better Spanish speaker. Juan can speak a fair amount of English, but I wanted to make sure we got the right information. Visions of walking in with a loose tooth and walking out with a grill kept dancing through my head.

Juan gave me two options.

Option 1

I could get an implant and shave the tooth right next door to allow for a fit. My bottom teeth are crooked, despite having worn braces twice. Neither he nor I liked this option, but it would be the least expensive.

Option 2

I could get braces, they call them brackets, and properly align all my bottom teeth. Then I could get an implant after about 6 months.

I chose the brackets and we scheduled an appointment for the next week. All of this took place within a span of about 6 days, which is incredible. We were all concerned about abscess, and to make things a wee bit more complicated, we are about to leave on a 5 day vacation to Paris. A couple more weeks and we are on Christmas break for two weeks. Great timing, eh?

So Susan and I returned for the extraction appointment. I knew I was in for a wild ride when Juan broke out the jackhammer and crowbar. That tooth didn't want to come out. You know it's gonna be a bad day, when you see brand names like Craftsman in a dentist's office.

Juan actually did a very good job. When he got out the tooth, he discovered that a sizable portion of my jawbone had been eroded by infection and that a cyst had grown there. He estimated the damage to be at least 4-5 years old. That begs the question, "Why didn't I know about this, when I have had regular checkups, including x-rays, at my dentist back home?" We now believe that my mouth suffered trauma when I was a child. I fell and hit my chin on the edge of a wheelbarrow, right in this area of my upper chin. I can't grow beard hair in a little circle in the exact location of the break in my tooth. I also suffered some facial trauma in a car accident and required stitches very close to this area. That would mean the tooth has been broken for at least 20 years. As improbable as that sounds, I think it is correct. I have had no other injuries to that part of my face.

Option 2 ended up being a good decision, because he would not have been able to put in an implant with that much bone loss. Now I will need a bone graft from my chin or upper jaw before I get an implant. The good news is that the whole shouting match will be a lot less expensive than in the USA. So far I have paid about $100, which includes x-rays, four visits to the dentist, one consultation with an orthodontist and a tooth extraction.

After our trip to Paris, I will get yet another set of braces. Hopefully the Spanish version will work better than the other two. Vamos a ver.