From what I have observed, most people don't think about their teeth very often, maybe once or twice a year when they get that postcard from the dentist saying, "reminder: come pay us to clean your teeth!" But then there are others, a whole group of others who are growing in number, who think about their teeth almost constantly. I am in the latter group.
Like I said, I should have started this years ago, but I didn't so let me give you a short briefing on why I am in the latter group. When I was in my late teens, things started changing in my mouth, very subtly at first, but then gradually, more and more noticeable changes began. At first my teeth were very sensitive to brush, so I bought special toothpaste. That did nothing. So I went to my dentist, which my parents had left a bill at, and since now over the age of eighteen, I was responsible for. So it took me some time but I paid it off and saw my dentist, finally. She prescribed a better "special" toothpaste that I used with no results. Then slowly at first, my teeth started to crumble, like chalk. I would wake up in the morning and feel like I had a mouth full of sand. I had dental insurance, but no money, so I just tried dealing with it. Over the next few years, my teeth became the number one thing I would think about. Now, they've never been pretty, they were crooked and misshapen, but when they broke I became more and more self-conscious. I learned to smile, laugh, and even talk without showing my teeth, quite a talent really.
It was when my front tooth broke while eating a breadstick that I realized how bad it had become and that it would only get much worse, I looked for help and found none. I had to make one of the most painful decisions I have had to make, I made the decision, three years ago, to get dentures. It took me two years to save up enough money to get just the top done. The pain in my mouth during my wait for dentures was unbearable. I could not sleep, I could not eat, I couldn't think. I would get infections so bad, my face would swell and look like I had a softball under my skin. (That is not an exaggeration.) When I would go to a doctor for antibiotics, they would look at me and treat me like a meth head, because that's what they assumed happened to my teeth. (Although I've never touched it.) It was most embarrassing and painful to be treated in such a way.
So in April of 2013, at the age of 24, I finally saved up and went in to get my teeth pulled. (We thought I had enough for top and bottom, but at a later date found out I did not.) I could not afford the luxury of sedation, oh how I wish I could have, so I did this awake. I was given valiums for my nerves, which helped none, (I have a terrible fear of dentists and needles, a two for one in this case) and my wonderful boyfriend was by my side. Note: in the past I had already had ten teeth removed by a different dentist. So the dentist started by numbing both top and bottom gums completely at once with many shots. While we waited for them to do their job, I sat up and cried. So he pulled my remaining top teeth first, I had my wisdom teeth and two molars on each side, then my canine, and two front teeth were all that were left. It took him quite a long time to get them out and the pain was, manageable, then he went to the bottom and pulled the two-year molar on my right side. I felt it. It was a completely unmanageable pain. I told him I felt it and he decided to pull another, the one directly behind, to see if I really felt it, I suppose. I felt it. This is where we had to stop because I could not receive anymore numbing injections without risking my health.
My immediate denture was put in, and I went straight to the pharmacy for some badly needed pain medicine. (Did you know the pharmacy will rush pain medicine for you?) The next two weeks were recovery, and they were unpleasant, but much better than I had anticipated, eating was the main challenge. (I, at this time, still cannot eat soup because of the abundance I ate during my healing)
It has almost been a year, I still don't have the money for my bottom teeth to be done, which badly needs to happen, but getting dentures was the best thing I have ever done. They don't hurt, I laugh, I smile, I eat, (what my bottom teeth will allow) I live. It may not seem like a big deal to the ones who only think about their teeth twice a year when you get a card from your dentist, but for those like me, for those who know how real the pain is, emotionally, physically, even spiritually, this is something. And I hope and pray that you can get the same relief that I have gotten and that you, too, can live.
Please note: If you can save your teeth please do. This is just my story told, so that people know they are NOT alone.
(Me, with my brand-new smile)
