Nearly two years ago I had a wobbly front tooth courtesy of a toddler accidentally head-butting me. My dentist braced it, with cement, to it’s neighbouring teeth which worked well initially but has given me problems, brace breaking, infection, everything you would imagine with a tooth which wants to come out. For the last few months I’ve become super conscious of it being discoloured and in the wrong position and less tolerant of the discomfort it causes and how cautious I have to be about how and what I eat. Dentist and I made the decision two weeks ago, it would be better out than in. At the time we planned it, and until yesterday, I’ve been blase about it but yesterday the reality hit and the anxiety started. A front tooth, that’s a major vanity thing. Supposing the false one doesn’t fit, or looks odd, too big/small, wrong colour. By the time I was walking to the dentist this morning I was quivering, snivelling and very close to wimping out, I have to say that I am not usually nervous of the dentist, that changed.
Well, mission accomplished. I am now the possessor of a beautiful, new tooth. Me and my tooth, Blanche, are very happy with each other. The lead up to the old tooth making room for Blanche was worse than I had envisaged, needles and me are not a good match and I have to say that needles in front gums are high on my worse experience ever list but that’s over now and, like childbirth, it was a means to an end and well worth it.