Anyway I digress. Where was I? Ah yes, Dentistry in New Zealand. Right. So as I was saying, dental care in New Zealand is really something. When we first arrived here, I thought I’d just not bother with it. A couple of years without seeing a dentist regularly shouldn’t be a problem. I have, after all, had a relatively trouble free set of gnashers. Sure I’ve had the odd filling here and there, and the occasional extraction, but overall nothing to write home about.
But as our stay became extended, eventually I gave in and so booked an appointment at our nearest practice. Boy was I in for a shock! What I was used to was an appointment lasting maybe ten minutes. Fifteen on the outside….. Not an hour and a half. Yes you read that correctly. Ninety-sodding-minutes. What I hadn’t factored into the equation was that it was actually two appointments in one. First with the hygienist, where the teeth are given a bit of TLC, and then a check up by the dentist. It’s a long process that's for sure.
I suppose it does make sense. Why waste the dentist’s time on scraping and polishing when they should be looking for faults. It doesn’t take a mechanic to wash your car after all. And all that attention doesn’t come cheap - at least on the occasion of my first visit, the dentist didn’t take a sharp intake of breath and say “Oohh, that’s going to cost you mate!”. Or if he did I didn’t hear it - I was too busy worrying about getting out of there before nightfall and wondering if I should have brought pyjamas.
That was many years ago now so I’ve gotten used to the process. Allow plenty of time, wear comfortable clothing and maybe get a loan pre-approved. Thankfully my healthy gob trend has continued in New Zealand. Or last it had until last week when I lost a tooth. Well not exactly lost. Let me explain. You see it all started late last year…..
Oddly, I’ve had a constant companion in the mouth department - a baby tooth that didn’t want to leave the nest so to speak. It’s been there through my school days, college and university, and was there when I started my first job. Obviously I care for my teeth so well that it just didn’t want to go. But as it approached its fiftieth year, things started to go a bit wobbly. You could say a bit doddery. So it’s fair to say that in the last couple of years it's been more of a hindrance than an asset.
In fact it was getting so loose I started to think about alternatives - something to fill the gap should I lose my faithful companion. An implant seemed to be the best option until I found out that I would need a bone graft for it to work. And the most suitable building material for that graft? Swiss cow bone. Yes the bones of a bovine. I wasn't sure at first if it was a wind up or just a rouse to pump up the price. After all nothing from Switzerland comes cheap. Whatever the reason, it was off-putting. And what if there we’re side effects? Doesn’t bear thinking about.
So I was resolved. I decided to be undecided. I and my little trooper would soldier on…..
At least that was the plan. Unfortunately a bowl of muesli had other ideas. Last week I was tucking into my morning my cereal and…ouch! It was one bite too far for the little fella. After an emergency trip to the dentist I was a few grams lighter and several hundred dollars worse off.
That gap in my life is nothing to the gap in my mouth. It feels huge! Like the Grand Canyon of the mouth world. A deep as it is wide. Even now I can imagine that there is a dare devil blob of bacteria planning an audacious stunt to jump across the chasm…. I need to get out more. Sometime I forget and get a shock when I notice the absence. I suppose it'll save a bit on teeth cleaning.
People tell me it isn’t bad, it’s hardly noticeable at all really. As long as I don’t smile or talk. Hhmmm, maybe cow bone isn’t too bad after all......
Welcome back.....Giz a smile
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