Many yesterdays ago…I remember losing a tooth was a nifty quarter profit, a dream visit to the penny candy counter, and the giddy thrill of my younger brother’s envy.
The present. I finally worked in a morning appointment with a periodontist, slotted my afternoon with a pulmonologist. (another entry?) It seems my medical conditions, Stiff Person Syndrome and insulin-dependent diabetes, or their temporary remedies, can create additional “conditions.” I now have dry mouth and bone loss extreme in my lower right, back-crowned molar…DOA.
After the familiar psych-taught intro, “Let’s talk and get acquainted.” (Subliminal meaning: “put the patient at ease.”) We talked autoimmune disease and immunosuppressents, a lively icebreaker. He has mild vitilago on his hands.
He proceeded to poke my gums with the tools of his trade, verbally scoring the depth of gum tissue surrounding each tooth with the expertise of an Olympic judge. The only gold, my infected crown.
Pain. How do I process “ordinary” pain, judge severity, or choose a scale rating when I live with chronic pain every day? I quietly sat through his exam, not feeling anything warranting an “Ouch!” Finally, with incredulous respect, he waved his sharp, gum-probing hook in front of my eyes and said, “Don’t you feel that?”
Well, I did, but the discomfort of the oral exam was not a blip on my pain radar. Maybe I should have faked a groan for his benefit. The only pain I did feel was the cost factor of the proposed yank and restore.
Factor in inflation, maybe a gold crown under my pillow…
“Many of us are at the “metallic” age – Gold in our teeth, silver in our hair – and lead in our pants” ~Unknown~
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Chronic Chaos 