Second bite

The Magpie Tales toothbrush came at a bad time. So much guilt. If I’d known I could live this long I would have taken better care of my teeth! This picture is of a foot pedal operated drill, similar to the one used by my first dentist who visited my school to see to the teeth of poorer students. See the notice explaining its use and imagine a dentist jigging around, pedalling energetically while trying to perform delicate caries removal in the small mouth of an eight year old. That was me. The eight year old, not the dentist!

In case you were wondering, he stuffed up and had to remove four teeth. Then he sent me back to class with a note that I should be sent home. What they all forgot was that our farm was four miles away and there was no transport, so in the heat of sunmer I walked home with a mouth full of bloody cotton wool. Mum was not happy. She hated me missing lessons!

Many many years later, only two years ago I lost my first permanent tooth, a very expensive root canalled/gold capped molar that had reached its use-by-date, and was offered a referral to a specialist who could do an implant for $5,000. Although I could have scraped it together, I put it off, knowing I could never afford a second one, and barring my prior demise, would finish up with one implant standing ‘like a tombstone in a ghost town!’

I digress to tell you that a four year old once told me, oh so seriously, that a cemetery is: ‘A place where dead people live.’ I assure you I did not laugh… not until later.

So with three teeth suddenly giving me merry hell, crunch time has arrived. Now there is no choice. Dentures it will be. So, I will talk to Dr Dan on Monday and arrange an end to the pain as soon as possible. Wish me luck and join me in thanking science for anaesthetic!

(Pic from Wiki)