There are no photos in this blog post since they would just gross you out.
Yesterday, March 1st, a day that should be a happy turning towards Spring and new growth, was a day I spent in a dentist chair having old growth removed. Who knew that you could have a badly infected tooth and not feel a thing? Who knew that you could have jaw bone loss and not be any the wiser?
I went to the dentist 3 weeks ago for a routine checkup and he found that one tooth that had an old root canal had become infected and needed to be pulled out. He could tell this from an x-ray. I felt nothing wrong at all. He referred me to an “implantaloog”, Dutch for a dentist who specializes in implants.
(Digression: I find it so amusing that the Dutch take foreign words and Dutch-ify them. “Implantaloog” is just hilarious to me. A Dutch friend informs me that “implant” is a perfectly good Dutch word, but I don’t believe him. I can’t find it in a Dutch dictionary. I do find “implantaat”, which is the Dutch translation from the English “implant”. So, I guess “implantaloog” comes from the Dutch “implantaat”. Sometimes English and Dutch are so close that it’s hard to know which came first, the chicken or the egg. /end Digression)
Yesterday I went to this Implantaloog, whose name happens to be Quaak (seriously), and he pulled my tooth. I really have to give you the gory details. Turn away now if you are squeamish. Despite the fact that this root was badly infected and was full of puss and smelled bad, the damn tooth was really hard to get out. He cut it into 4 pieces and tried to get them out carefully so as not to damage the bone further. I swear he stood on my jaw with a crowbar in his hands prying these pieces out. Eventually he managed it and only once did a piece of something land back on my tongue requiring a diving expedition to grab it before I swallowed it.
Then he cleaned it out and decided to immediately do a bone graft. I didn’t even think to ask where this bone came from. I’ve read online that the bone is either from the patient themselves (I didn’t donate anything), or from a cadaver, or from an animal, or artificial. Next week when I go back to get my stitches out I will definitely ask him what it was. Not that it matters, I’m just curious.
So, yes, tooth out, hole cleaned, bone substrate inserted, stitched up closed, a wad of gauze placed on it and hold it tight til the bleeding stops. Then to get home I took a tram, the metro, the train and finally a bus. Yesterday afternoon I felt exhausted and beat up.
Luckily I have nothing planned for this weekend. It’s cold and grey outside, which perfectly matches how I feel. DB is taking care of shopping and cleaning and I only have to sit around healing and, yes you guessed it, knitting. My jaw is throbbing but this doesn’t keep me from using my hands and my mind.
I’m going to work on a design proposal for Vogue Knitting. All I can say is that it involves some lovely shetland yarns, 3-ply. Maybe in another 9 months I’ll have something to show for it!