In a Perhaps Unsurprising Development, It Turns Out Having Screws Drilled Into Your Gums is Painful, Uncomfortable
I apologize for being wildly unproductive and non-prolific over the last week, but I think I have a good explanation/excuse.
The thing is, last Tuesday, I was put under, and when I woke up, there were screws in my upper and bottom gums. I was told to sleep sitting up, in a recliner, if possible. That proved a challenge for me in that I am a lifelong insomniac who has difficulty falling asleep under ideal circumstances, so you can only imagine how hard it was to even attempt sleep while halfway through a modern dental miracle.
The following day, I returned to the dentist and had my new, permanent teeth put in.
The doctors adorably insisted that the pain and discomfort from HAVING SCREWS DRILLED INTO THE MIDDLE OF YOUR FACE would be minor at most and could be easily handled with aspirin and a little rest.
That is not how it played out for me, predictably enough. The eight Hydrocodone pills they gave me for the pain and discomfort were a life-saver. They allowed me to sleep despite the whole screws-in-the-face thing.
They said that the first two weeks would be the hardest. That’s when I’d be hit with all the side effects: sore throat, tight jaw, earache, toothache, swelling, pain, discomfort, wild tangles of dissolvable stitches not dissolving. Me being me, I got all of the negative side effects and then some.
It’s hard to overestimate the value and importance of teeth. So I find myself once again in the surreal position of having to learn how to talk and breathe and sleep with a permanent pair of teeth that you cannot take out even though you are intermittently overcome with an irrational desire to do so.
I’m also drooling a lot. Did I mention the drooling? That’s not too dignified, particularly when accompanied by lisping. I had a serious speech impediment as a child that has boomeranged back into my life deep into middle age.
Here’s the thing: I am so unbelievably grateful that dental implants exist and that despite having the world’s lowest credit score I was able to have one done. I am so appreciative that nearly 500 people have ponied up cold, hard cash for a campaign that promises to give you NOTHING for your money beyond the good feeling that comes with helping someone in need and the vague promise that I will be a better, sharper, and more prolific writer if I’m not miserable all the time and also can do things like enjoy food.
I’m on a very good, very expensive path to wholeness and dignity. I’m just in a very difficult part of that journey right now. I have what the dentists call “pizza mouth” where it feels like the roof of my mouth is burning and leathery.
For the next four months it will be nothing but soft food for me.
And then, and this is the beautiful part—I plan to enjoy a sandwich. I mean really enjoy a sandwich.
I have to have faith that everything will work out alright, that this will all be worth the enormous time, money, and hassle. This is a second chance that I will not blow.
The dental implant surgery kicked my ass. I foolishly hoped that I would bounce back after the operation. That did not happen.
I don’t feel alive or worthwhile unless I am writing and publishing. But last week, I would do this crazy thing where I would watch a movie and then not write about it.
Crazy, huh? It seemed like a waste, but it also made sense not to push myself too hard post-surgery.
Things should be getting better by the day. That I’m even writing this blog post about how I haven’t had the energy to write blog posts or bigger pieces is a sign of progress.
It’s easy to feel ashamed when you’re a 46-year-old with dentures. I have felt incredible embarrassment, to the point that I was terrified that people would see me without my teeth and be, at the very least, disturbed.
So there’s something liberating about talking about all of the elements of having dentures that have filled me with shame, like the fact that I often felt like throwing up if I kept them in for too long, and having people respond with kindness, compassion, and generosity rather than judgment or cruelty.
This seems to be the one time in my life when being excessively candid worked out in my favor.
I’m getting better day by day. Hopefully, in a month, I’ll see this time as little more than an annoying but necessary bump in the road to dental nirvana.
Thanks again to everyone who contributed to the campaign. I planned to thank everyone personally, but I haven’t had the time or energy to do so yet.
I’m going to try to take it a little easier and be a little kinder to myself, my brain, and my poor mouth because wonderful things can happen when you help yourself and let other people help as well.
Nathan needs teeth that work, and his dental plan doesn't cover them, so he started a GoFundMe at https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-nathans-journey-to-dental-implants. Give if you can!
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