Today I am fifty-eight years old! The only time in my lifetime I’ll be the same age as my birth year, 1958. (well, not the one thousand, nine hundred, bit) Which I think is a remarkably wonderful and curious thing.
In lieu of cake, which I can’t eat until at least Monday
Yesterday I underwent the next step in my tooth implant adventure which I posted about in May with the ‘oh-so-very-understated-title of ‘I had a hole drilled in my skull the other day’. This time it was only a small, relatively speaking, procedure, to screw in the pin that will secure the thingy that the new tooth will be built around. But still there was the local anesthetic, and the blood, and the stitching, and the sore jaw to endure. All of which means that today I’m celebrating my birth day with analgesics and a hot water bottle plastered to the side of my face.
Mrs Widds, who is doing her bi-monthly retreat, (full, and dark, of the Moon) left a beautiful hand made card on my desk for me to find this morning.
As Fifty-Eighth Birth Days go, this one’s not too bad.
What my teefs will look like … heh, heh, heh
2 hour surgery with only a local anesthetic. You guessed it – dentistry!
I’m getting one of those fancy screw-in dental implants to replace a two-tooth gap in the side of my smile.
It’s a rather fascinating process really. (and would be far more interesting without the accompanying pain and agony. I’m so glad opiate-based painkillers were invented)
Six months ago I had some extra bone inserted into my upper jaw so the screw part of the implant would have something to screw into, then, last week I had the hole drilled in my upper jaw (hence the hole-in-the-skull, ‘cos technically the upper jaw is part of the skull) and the screw screwed in. The whole thing is sewn up and covered with a membrane made from my own blood! (I kid you not – I watched them make it) I wait for another six months for that to heal, then we’ll go for round three. Wait six more months and then the crown goes on.
Even through copious quantities of anesthetic, I still felt the vibration of the drill through every bone in my body as it chewed its way into my jaw.
I understand the concept of suffering for one’s art, but this is taking research a bit far.