I took the first step and I'm petrified.

[zabka]

Warning: This is really, really long. Don't read it if you're easily bored.


It's probably also best not to read it if you're easily confused, as my mind's not working very well at the minute and my thoughts are garbled to say the least. If you do make it through then thank you; your effort is greatly appreciated.


I don't condone most of the behaviour detailed below, particularly anything involving drugs, taking prescription drugs without a prescription, or Googling terrifying things like 'rotten roots of teeth bone infection' (the one good thing to come of this was finding this excellent website!). This may be graphic and I've been to a bad place dentally, although I appreciate that there must be MANY people on this site with a worse time than me - I do recognise this and I know this is all woe-is-me and the like, but just writing it here will do me the world of good, and if this has a happy ending in a year's time it could help someone else who's anxiously thinking the worst. I really hope so.


The post does contain some mild language. I swear like a sailor most of the time, as I find it much more difficult to express myself verbally than...literally? Even though I prefer writing to speaking, I find it difficult to express emotion and profanity helps me with this. I don't believe that this makes someone stupid, as it takes skill to swear effectively. However, I do apologise if anyone is offended by the language or if it contravenes site rules (I didn't see any reference to language, although my search may not have been comprehensive).


I had to make regular visits to the dentist as a child. I had multiple milk tooth extractions on more than one occasion. I had gas and remember feeling like I was spinning down a tunnel. Later I came to and was throwing up in to one of those weird cardboard kidney dish things. I seem to have blocked most of my appointments out and can just remember vague details (with a couple of notable exceptions). These recollections, however unclear, are permeated by a strangely uneasy feeling. I had several fillings too.


I fell over once in Blackpool when I was about nine and landed on my mouth on the corner of the kerb. I remember that my lip exploded and there was a great deal of pain. I went to the hospital for an x ray and to check for concussion and spent a while eating soup through a straw. Again, I don't remember this period very clearly. I'm not sure whether this accident contributed to my dental problems or if it was just another reason for me to fear pain in my mouth.


I have always had buck teeth and an overbite (currently, the overjet is more than 10mm and my teeth are becoming more horizontal by the day - I don't want to measure it and depress myself), and at the age of ten or thereabouts my mother took me to the orthodontic clinic at the local NHS trust to begin treatment. After a horrible experience with the impression moulds and a very unsympathetic orthodontist, I was issued with some horrendous instrument of torture, a pair of upper and lower removable braces which scraped my gums, crushed my teeth and worst of all were fitted with large plastic blocks which locked together in a way which apparently made my bite 'normal'.


As far as I'm aware, my back teeth sit together when I bite down (well, they might be a little out, but not as much as the front ones). So I failed to understand how forcing my jaw to sit inches forwards of where it normally does would help me in any way. It didn't feel right and every time I removed the brace or opened my mouth my jaw would pop back to its original position. My face looked unnatural and I've always had overcrowding issues and this just crushed everything closer together. I could not speak with the brace. I had to remove the brace to eat. When I went to have the brace tightened, it would be immensely painful for weeks afterwards, causing pains in my teeth which made them feel like they were going to drop out and giving me bad headaches as well as mouth ulcers. I was told that I would have to wear this device for a minimum of three years, followed by fixed braces for an indefinite amount of time.


There were several family issues going on at this point, and about a year later the end effect of everything was for me to refuse to wear the brace. All of my family pleaded with me to wear it. Most of them started to try and guilt me in to it, usually by saying 'You'd be so pretty if only it wasn't for your teeth!' and other inspiring statements. Quite how this is supposed to encourage an anxious and distressed pre-teen to wear something painful is beyond me. Eventually, there was a showdown with the orthodontist, who shouted in my face (while I was in the chair) that I was stupid for not wearing the brace, and that if I failed to do so 'it' would 'just keep getting worse'. By 'it' he meant 'your face', I think.


My dental hygiene at this point was slightly below average for a child of this age, I guess - brushing at least once most days and flossing infrequently. This experience essentially made me hate my teeth, a feeling encouraged by many wonderful children attending my all-girls high school. Kids can be cruel. My oral (and general) hygiene deteriorated, and by the time my mother passed away when I was 16, I was in the depths of a severe depression and rarely washing my body, let alone my teeth.


I had several bad experiences with doctors around this time too - I was never abused in a physical sense, but I didn't trust them in any way. I hadn't visited the doctor since the age of 17 until November 2012, when I had a severe bout of flu which took me out of work for more than two weeks and resulted in my getting fired from a new job. Luckily, my old place of work accepted me back in a different role. I had got a doctor's note in an attempt to not lose my job* and I wanted to go anyway as I was worried. I'd never felt so awful for so long with flu before. I would regain some strength sitting quietly at home, but when I tried to return to work I redeveloped the symptoms and felt worse than before. My new(ish) job is in an office, so I was better able to cope than with physical labour. This is getting out of order now...back to the teeth.


When I was 17 I lost my first filling - a premolar on the left. Sensitivity turned to pain and then to a throbbing, ulcerated mess. I was in agony and only had Orajel to soothe my pain. It didn't do much and I desperately tried to stuff toilet papers, gum, whatever in to the hole for some relief. This did not work very well. Eventually, the pain faded - I saw this as a victory but now know the root probably died around this time, or something equally depressing.


The gap left by the filling slowly widened. I could taste something foul, both inside the hole and from the space between this tooth and the next one. If I flossed there I could smell and taste something rotten, almost dog-turd-like. This wasn't happening in many other places at the time, although I do have a rather special bottom right canine which is out in front of the two teeth which are supposed to surround it. I can't brush between them and could barely fit floss between them when I was younger. I can manage a little more easily now (gum/bone loss?) but the rotten smell still remains. Same with the middle bottom two which are a little crossed and crowded. When I was younger it hurt to floss there. It would rip in to the gum due to the force required to get it between the teeth; the jagged edges on the teeth would separate the floss into strands and it would all get stuck between my tooth and the gum,feeling like the tooth would be pulled out when I removed the floss.


My brushing habits have also been impeded by a gag reflex which started around the same time. I'd be inclined to think that this is partly due to smoking, but I started smoking a couple of years before noticing this. I did, however, contract what appears to have been bronchitis - a deep cough, rendering me breathless early in the morning and often waking me up, producing large amounts of yellow, green or brown sticky mucus. Possibly this could have contributed? It could certainly be attributed to the cigarettes - maybe it's an indirect relationship. Or maybe the gag reflex was down to the oral infection. Who knows? I still have this problem (although I do try to keep a vague level of oral (and general) hygiene nowadays) and I have to try and brush them before anyone has an...erm...movement in the mornings, or the smell will knock me sick (even my own ). I also have a real problem after eating, which makes brushing at night a challenge - it's more successful in the mornings because even if I do retch, there's nothing to bring up but a little bile. If it's at night, I will be sick and the idea of food and enzymes and acid washing over my freshly-scrubbed teeth and opened gums seems somewhat counterproductive...


Even mouthwash isn't really an option as anything containing alcohol sets my gums on fire and seems to make them shrink more or fall away from the teeth and appear greyish. The only exception is Corsodyl toothpaste, which doesn't make them feel too bad despite tasting awful. I'm not sure if I should use the mouthwash as it contains alcohol and the last time I used it it did clear up an abscess - my original premolar filling, now broken to above the gum line and spreading infection to a boil on the gum above it, which I would squeeze yellow pus out of periodically - but later appeared to be damaging my gums. This gumboil reappeared about a year ago, but I saw it off quickly this time )


I really like Dentyl in a way because you can see all the crap from your mouth in the sink (and I have a LOT to look at) and there's no alcohol, but the flavours, while nice intitally, seem to mix really horribly with the strong taste of pus and bacteria. And some of the weird strands of bacteria, or spit, or whatever they are, mixed with the mouthwash, stick all to my furry smoker's tongue and around my mouth, in my gum pockets, everywhere. It is foul and I don't want to rinse with water as this is supposed to negate the potential of the mouth wash, but it's SO rank and even after using the tongue and cheek scraper bit of toothbrush I can still taste it and sometimes this induces vomiting even if I made it through brushing and flossing. I usually smoke a cigarette after this to clear the taste and recover from the trauma, or something else if it's the evening, which is probably as bad as being sick in a way. And then there's the tea...Oh well.


My diet does bear a mention, as it's contributed to my troubles. I've always loved Coke and chocolate and sweets and puddings and cakes and ate far too much of this up until a couple of years ago (read: my diet consisted almost entirely of these items). I still eat about three times as much crap as a normal person, and up until recently could chin five cans of Coke in a day (I have made a concerted effort in the past week or so to cut down on the Coke, and the tea, and even juice which I love ...well, maybe not so much the tea...I still drink lots of tea).


Surprisingly, I'm thin as a rake. Too thin. Unattractively thin. I would give anything to have a few extra kilos and not be so cold or uncomfortable sitting on my own arse. I know that many people would imagine this to be a non-problem, but it's a real issue with me. Between stress, pickiness, tooth pain, and illness, I sometimes find it hard to eat, or rather to motivate myself to eat or cook or think about appealing foods. I think people think I'm anorexic or something at work, despite me insisting that I'll eat later at home, or seeing me eat bacon every day some weeks, or a meal and two extra somethings from McDonalds when my belly's having a really good day. I've noticed lately I've started to like stronger foods which I previously detested (olives and blue cheese to name a couple). I know that this is normal as people get older, but it's becoming more noticeable. Probably my tastebuds trying to combat the constant flow of pus and bacteria...


Right. Teeth story. So, I eventually got myself pulled together (reasonably so!) emotionally, mainly thanks to a wonderful brother and great group of friends (I love my Dad, and called him tonight to confide in him and ask him about his own problems - he had a partial in his mid 20s - but we don't have a 'normal' relationship) and a lot of support off my Mum's sister and her husband. I got a job and somehow managed to do well and get promoted, even though the job itself and place are not the best to work in and the pay isn't (and never will be) amazing. Here, I met my wonderful girlfriend, and we've been together for almost four years. I love her more than anything. She is amazing and has helped me so much by doing the smallest (and biggest) things...and we have a small, cat-shaped child, which is actually a cat. Yeah, I know, that was meant to be a tooth paragraph. Sorry. It'll be too long if I put the tooth bit in now, so the next paragraph it will have to be.


So while most of my life was sorted at this point (age...24?) I still hadn't registered with a doctor or dentist since leaving my hometown (Southport) and moving to Manchester. I'd managed to get through minor illnesses before - colds, flu, gastroenteritis - and due to a hatred of calling in sick I always managed to get back to work before the point of a sick note being required. I wasn't absent from work often, and was always kind of ill when I returned, so my story was believed. I think it's also that I'm naturally quite a hard worker. I was trusted in this sense. I will always try to go to work if I am capable of leaving the house. My teeth were getting progressively worse, though, despite my improving dental hygiene. Squeezed it in there!


I'd now lost the same tooth on the upper right, and had similar agonising pains and swelling and throbbing, although this was before I met my girl. Both premolars were (and still are) snapped down to the gum line. I haven't looked at the roots. I don't want to. My upper right canine was next. I don't remember the pain - I seem to feel that it was combined with the decline of the right premolar - but one day half of it snapped off while I was eating toast in my girlfriend's bed. I was horrified and tried to get the bit of tooth out without her noticing. She has practically perfect teeth, except for the front middle...I don't even know if it's the left or right, because I couldn't tell until I had been fairly intimate with that mouth ...which is replaced by a one-tooth loose denture after an accident as a kid snapped her tooth halfway. I loved her and we'd passed what I think of as the fart test (hopefully you will understand), but my teeth were a whole new ballpark. My experience of talking with people about my teeth since the orthodontic episode had comprised of select assholes jeering at me and me failing to think of a witty comeback until it was too late. Sword fighting in Monkey Island didn't do much good after all. How appropriate. You fight like a cow.


This canine is now a small hollow shard, the inside of which is black/brown. Sometimes I have dull aching pains in the root, and it can be sore if I bite on it directly. It's also very sharp. The student dentist (I'm getting there!) commented on how sharp it was. Somehow, I manage not to cut my tongue or lip too much any more, although it was hard at first. I hate the feeling of a freshly broken tooth, so I don't understand or appreciate my tongue being drawn to it like a magnet. This one was not good. I also hate the way small bits of food, especially rice and couscous, get stuck inside and you are powerless to extract them without having a sore mouth, unless you get lucky with mouthwash. It reminds me of the sockets left after my milk extractions; that alien, hollow feeling. I will know this feeling again soon.

 

[zabka]

Part 2...

My lower left canine began to erode about a year ago, crumbling slowly in pieces. I'd started to notice that the pieces of tooth which came away were deteriorating in strength and thickness and were getting darker in colour. I didn't feel pain for some time but knew it wouldn't be long. Meanwhile, all four wisdom teeth had made an appearance (the first when I was 20 - at first I thought it was bone, not tooth, and was petrified) but I'm unconvinced that any of them have made it out fully even now. All four have given me problems with food getting stuck under the gum. All four appear to be stuck under my second molars and I'm worried that they could be rotting in my jaw. They also feel like they're crushing my other teeth. Since I've lost at least half a tooth in three of four quadrants, I've felt slightly more comfortable, as if the wisdom teeth have more space. The other teeth appear to have shifted forwards, since the gaps left behind from the broken teeth surely aren't large enough to accomodate a full tooth. The lower canine is half its previous width, and the next tooth is nearly pressed up against its edge already.


My other teeth aren't free from damage. They nearly all have visible or tongueable cavities and the few which don't to my untrained eye (I also don't have one of those little stick mirrors) always have loads of food stuck between them when I floss, which wasn't previously visible. This, to me, suggests cavities between the teeth. I am also fairly sure that I have advanced gum disease. Back when I had the left premolar upper abscess, my gums were constantly bleeding and inflamed, especially after brushing. Later, the tips went grey and then receded. The gum under my weird lower right canine that is in front of its brothers has now eroded down to a level that you can see a strip of something rough and yellow-brown-greenish which used to be below the gumline and is often coated in plaque. I am unsure whether this is the root of the tooth or the bone. The strip is at least 1mm wide and due to the placement of my tooth I cannot see the bottom of it as I cannot pull my lip far forward enough. I have a similar strip above my upper right middle incisor but this one is barely visible.


All the gums in my mouth smell rotten, especially when I haven't eaten all day. Even my girlfriend will comment and she is not cruel or fussy about these sorts of things. Flossing makes me feel sick to think that this taste and smell resides in my mouth 24/7. It pulls the rubbery, weak gums away from my teeth, which all have gaps between them. Mouthwash affords the gums temporary relief, despite leaving the rotten taste mixed with mint or cherry flavour all over my mouth. Corsodyl toothpaste has not returned the gums to health but has quelled the bleeding upon brushing and reduced some of my sensitivity (though not much, and it tastes FOUL).


I had only survived one abscess in my girlfriend's company until last week. This first abscess hadn't been as excruciating as the previous ones, and it was eased by her giving me Ketanol, a powerful Polish painkiller which also acts as an anti-inflammatory. The pulsing pain in my jaw reduced to a bearable niggle and I slept. I was so happy. I was able to get through with just these tablets and Bonjela in a few days. I assume the infection was small or found a drain pretty quickly (I dread to think where). Even when I can't feel an 'active' abscess, I usually have some discomfort - an aching jaw, a toothache which turns into a headache, aching muscles, sore gums, shooting pains down the roots of my teeth - or I can feel my teeth clicking and shifting. I occasionally have nightmares where all of my teeth fall out.


Needless to say, what with the breath and the overbite and the missing teeth and my hiding bits of teeth in my hand when they broke off and my constant toothache, my girlfriend figured that something was amiss. She tried to bring the subject up and mentioned that private dental care in Poland is cheaper than NHS care in the UK and the dentistry is more advanced, and that she'd go with me and hold my hand and help me understand and everything. I clammed up and became defensive and angry. I know she loves me no matter how I look and she was only trying to help me, but I think I felt like a little girl again being told by her mother that she wasn't pretty because of her horrible teeth (my Mum was awesome, by the way, and didn't say it like that at all, but that's how it felt.) Besides, being told just how bad my teeth had got by a (probably) condescending dentist while the love of my life heard what a fool I had been sounded like a pretty guldarned unattractive offer to me. And I'm too poor in any case, despite the lower cost.


My general health has deteriorated in the few years. It has been more noticeable since the illness which got me fired. I was drained of energy for weeks afterwards and felt pain everywhere, chills, aches and pains. I eventually started to feel more like my old self and my appetite improved. However, every time I have had a routine cold or bout of stomach flu I have been knocked sideways and unable to recover for weeks at a time. I was recovering from a cold recently and then developed an abscess immediately after in the lower left canine. The pain was excruciating for four days and bearable for three, all with the Ketanol and even some strong Amoxicillin my girlfriend had managed to procure (3g/day). I slept in three hour chunks between painkillers. I moaned in between and tried to swallow the liquid diet my girlfriend had prepared by her own initiative. She tried to calm me to sleep by rubbing a nerve in my hand and bizarrely, it would work after an hour or so (apparently it's linked to the main nerve in your mandible). She would do this every time I woke for as long as she was in the room and would come if she heard me moaning in pain from another part of the house.


She was the best nurse anyone could ask for and better than I deserved. On the first day she demanded that I go to the hospital. I replied that it didn't work like that and I would be lucky to get a lecture and some antibiotics and advice to go to a dentist, which I couldn't do since I was terrified and ashamed and too poor and I wasn't in a fit state to research NHS dentists and even if I called the advice line (which is supposedly bobbins) and got an emergency dentist they probably wouldn't do anything while the infection was there. In my brief periods of consciousness and manageable pain I obsessively Googled tooth abscesses, infected jaws, osteomyelitis...my lip and cheek and tongue became numb on the same side as the infection, a small hard immovable lump appeared under my jawbone - not visible, but you can feel it - and I was scared.


When the swelling and pain subsided on the fifth day (I had once again been rendered incapable of working), I looked out of my bubble and saw the woman I loved looking more stressed, tired and scared than I had ever seen her. And she had been so kind and patient. It broke my heart and I resolved that whatever it took, I had to do something because it wasn't just me and my pain any more. I couldn't justify doing that to her again because of my own fear. My Googling had also lead me here and it helped massively to be able to read about people who felt the same as I do and had found a way out. A light appeared at the end of the tunnel. I have very weak willpower but once every few years something will spark inside me and I will feel that nothing can stop me. This was not quite one of these times, but I made it anyway. I've been lurking on here since then until deciding to take the plunge and bore someone to tears.


I had discovered the existence of a university dental hospital in the city centre, which runs an emergency clinic on weekday mornings. The infection felt under control, so I went early and my girlfriend came with me for moral support. The event now seems like a blur. I remember circling the building looking for the entrance, and I almost hoped we wouldn't find it. We waited for at least two hours, my knee jogging relentlessly, before my allocated card was called (13, as luck would have it), but it felt more like thirty minutes.


We walked to the reception desk, me with sweaty palms and both of us dying for a cigarette. Remembering what I'd read on this website, I intended to explain about my near-phobia, absence from treatment, issues, abscess etc., but unfortunately the receptionist was a very rude dental nurse who evidently thought she was made for bigger things than greeting emergency patients with no NHS dentist. She snapped 'You need to get registered. Why are you here?'. I faltered about my abscess and muttered something about being nervous. I hadn't written down any of the phone numbers she needed for next of kin and all that and even though I read and write very quickly she snatched the form back off me as I looked on my phone. She sent me back to the waiting area afterwards after growling that same-day extractions were not possible and I might receive a temporary filling 'at best', and I was very unhappy. My girlfriend didn't really understand and said that the woman wasn't very nice, but she wasn't really horrible. Perhaps I'm just too sensitive. Anyway, after that reintroduction to the dental world I felt even more nervous and on the brink of tears. And I do not cry easily (unless, for some unknown reason, I watch anything corny with sad music. Then my eyes will leak without permission, even if I'm not actually sad and I know how lame and corny the film or programme is. I can cry at DIY SOS. No kidding.)


My name was called. Fortunately, the person who'd said it was smiling. It was a young female student dentist, younger than me. My heart lifted slightly. I told her straight off that I was very nervous as I was 'terrified of dentists'. She laughed and said that I couldn't possibly be terrified of her, and she was a dentist. My social awkwardness temporarily obstructed my fear and I started waffling that it was nothing personal. She did put me at ease. But all too soon we were in a tiny treatment room with a computer, sink, a couple of stools, another, equally nice student, and THE CHAIR. The girl who'd accompanied me related the terror story to her colleague. They both laughed, but not in a threatening way. She asked me to sit in the chair and talk about why I was there. I wished there was another place to sit but sucked 'em up and got on with it. I explained that my mouth was 'in a bad way' (understatement of the century) and that I had pain in all my teeth and thought my wisdom teeth were impacted, but that the main cause of my visit was the abscessed canine. I mentioned the numbness and tingling in my face and also mentioned that the wisdom on the same side had been painful, as if it too had been inflamed.


They noted all I had said and asked a couple of questions. Then she asked me to sit back and I was really feeling sick and sweaty and uncomfortable. She reassured me and said she wasn't going to use any needles or pointy things - just a mirror, which she showed to me, and some air, which she blew on my hand so that I knew what to expect. I thanked her for the information a little too much, in the hope that the appointment would continue in the same vein. She was very gentle and barely touched my teeth, except for getting a little too excited at the (currently) abscessed one and tapping it with the mirror - that gave me a shock! But it was nothing compared to the agony I'd been in for the past few days.


She called out the numbers and every number had 'caries' or 'fracture' or 'retained root' next to it. Except, for some reason, the last four on the bottom right, which she just reeled off '5678' or whatever they are. Her colleague seemed a little confused too, and asked about them. The dentist replied that they were fine. I find that hard to believe - she didn't look at them properly! I'm not sure if the supervising qualified dentist had looked in and asked them to hurry up, as the clinic was about to finish and there was still a patient 14.


They asked me to return to the waiting area to go for an xray so they could assess the damage from the inside, as I would need at least my problem four removing and many other teeth were in 'the danger zone'. However, they confirmed that the antibiotics, which were apparently very strong, had cleared the infection. Since I was a nervous patient, I would be able to have my extractions done in the dental hospital for free, under sedation. My heart lifted. I was also advised that if some of my teeth could be saved, as I needed extensive work, it may be possible for me to become a kind of living student project and get all of my work done for free. I was elated and buzzing from my victory over the chair (oh, yes, that terrifying instrument of torture...THE MIRROR!) and went back to my girlfriend with a queasy smile after thanking the students profusely. No lecture, no disgusted looks, just facts. I was still a bag of nerves, though.


I told my girlfriend all that had been said. She went for a well-deserved cigarette while I waited for the xray. She came back. Still no xray. After half an hour the student came out, visibly annoyed. She apologised and said that the xray should have already been taken but that I would have to wait for at least half an hour more if I wanted to have it that day. She said that I would need to see a consultant before the extractions in any case, and that the xray could be taken then. She reiterated that free care could be an option, apologised again, and left.


I went home feeling vaguely happy with the way it had gone, but since then doubts have crept back in. My appointment is March 13 and in one way it can't come quickly enough; in another I never want to get there. I'm terrified of what that xray will reveal. I'm paranoid that my general poor health and susceptibility to illness stems from an infected jaw which has been contaminated by my rotten teeth. From what I have read this is possible and I can feel, for example, what feels like the roots of the abscessed teeth in my sinuses - clicking and a runny nose whenever I brush my top teeth - and pain in my left TMJ. I often have a slightly off stomach and feel that this could be due to swallowing bacteria 24/7. Even if the jaw is not infected, I'm worried that the bone loss from gum disease will change my face shape. But my worst fear is having to have my jaw amputated.


I know that this is probably completely ridiculous and totally unlikely but I can't stop thinking about it. Either that or having all my teeth removed and no immediates. I sound so vain putting those two possible outcomes next to each other - as if I'm trying to equate them. This isn't really the case. I hate these teeth after all. I think I'm scared of finding out how deep my stupidity runs and how much damage I've done. I know I probably sound like a hypochondriac but I have NEVER worried about my health until I've begun to feel this tired and crappy and weak. I know that there is something wrong with me, and that it probably stems from my oral health - even if it's not down to infection, it could be malnutrition due to my limited food intake, or even stressed muscles brought on by some kind of TMJ issue.


So, I'm planning on booking a doctor's appointment to see if my general health has been affected. I'm just worried that I'm going to be viewed as some kind of self-diagnosing, attention-seeking madwoman. Based on my GP's reaction when I went with the virus, I don't have high hopes. I did see a very nice Asian doctor when my eyelid swelled up about a month ago (I think there was a hair stuck inside it), who confessed that he hated going to the doctor himself and hated the dentist even more so to set me at ease when he noticed my nerves. I might try and see him again, but the appointment was made at very short notice and I didn't take his name.


So, in summary, I'm terrified of the upcoming consultation (with an unknown, non-student dentist) and xray, prognosis, extractions and aftermath. I'm worried that even if all that goes well (and it'll be free, too!), and I manage to save some teeth, that I won't qualify for the free treatment later on and will be left with fewer immediate problems but a mouthful of cavities and gum disease and no dentist...which is where this started Similarly, I'm afraid that they might perform the extractions for free but not issue a free denture and I'll be left toothless due to lack of funds. I'm even more worried that my bone is infected or my sinuses have been breached or the infection has spread to my joints. I'm also worried about the impact on my health, because to sound really, really melodramatic, I feel like I am slowly dying or something. I choke on food regularly. My neck is swollen - not in a tight, red way but in a puffy kind of way. I have itchy, dry yet oily, flaky skin. I develop a rash after showering or sweating. My joints ache. I lack energy. My facial numbness has reduced but is still present to some degree. My muscles sometimes briefly spasm or twitch. My hands are often freezing cold and develop pins and needles regularly.


I know that these symptoms could be easily put down to stress, depression or even several minor, unrelated complaints, but I feel that this isn't the case. I'm also wary of blaming my diet/habits as I have previously been in a much worse state in these areas but felt better than I do now. If anyone is still there (and you deserve a medal if you are), and you've had a mouth in a rotten state, did you experience any of the above, and was it connected to your oral health? If so, was it easily treated?


I'm sorry for whingeing like a self absorbed prat. I'm a little ashamed especially considering some of the inspiring and strong posts made by other members on this website. Thanks to those who have infinitely better stories and positive outlooks than I, thanks for reading if you made it to the end, and thanks to the site admin - this is an invaluable resource for the lost, bewildered and scared amongst us.


What a tit, making some kind of acceptance speech. That was not my intention. Part of me would like to delete this post. But I sense that this is just the beginning...and I want to come back and see how far I've come, even if nobody else ever reads this or responds.

Also, sorry if it didn't make sense. I had to cut it and use Notepad which may have had a poor result. Lame excuse? Me?




* This didn't work too well, and the doctor wasn't very helpful aside from giving me the note - apparently I felt SO awful because I had never had flu before. Have you ever heard such a ridiculous comment?! By my prior (and, to be fair, current) understanding, for an averagely healthy young person:


A cold - you feel like death for one/two days and discomfort for a week or so thereafter (two, tops)
The flu - you feel like death for up to a week and discomfort for up to two months after (tiredness etc)


I'm not daft and I do understand that cold viruses are many and varied and not as potent as each year's flu virus incarnation and that they can manifest in different ways, but this is a pretty standard benchmark in my book. And I HAVE had the flu before. Fool.

 

[tabhollywood]

Wow that was a long one - you have a great sense of humour that shines through
You certainly have done the hardest part (in my experience) and at least now have a date to prepare for. Lots and lots of luck for it x
Just wanted to say that the nhs is highly unlikely to leave you high and dry with work not finished. I would imagine they would see you through until fully repaired with usable teeth and a healthy mouth.
You're doing great keep up that humour and before you know it it'll all be over x

 

[zabka]

Haha, thank you TH. I've just skimmed through and I am actually amazed that a) I wrote so much and b) someone finished it and replied! I hope you are right about the worst being over I suppose time will tell on March 13! Luckily, I've managed to get the day off work - my appointment is 2.15 and I didn't fancy a morning of taking orders and being shouted at by irate chefs while my hands shake like a dog crapping razor blades. I had to fight for it, but it's sorted now My manager didn't seem to understand that 'utter terror' is not the same as 'being a bit scared', but I think I got the message through eventually.

One positive that's come of my appointment and recent pain is that I no longer care who knows how bad my teeth are. I still reflexively try to cover them, especially when speaking, smiling or laughing, but I am better able to speak about my issues and I don't really care what anyone thinks about what I say. I'm not sure why I still care about people looking. I think that talking with my girlfriend about it (and her not running for the hills) helped to open the verbal floodgates, so to speak.

I did try and pick my Dad's brains as he got an upper partial in his mid 20s. I wasn't alive, so I never saw his real teeth. I was kind of hoping that his were worse than mine are now, and that he hadn't had a rotting jaw and therefore I probably wouldn't either, but after some discussion it transpires that mine are probably worse right now than his were before the denture. This didn't exactly fill me with confidence, but he said I'd made the right decision by going sooner rather than later and he is proud of me which is pretty cool, I suppose.

I'm just worried about being left in the lurch because I don't have an NHS dentist. I think the proposed hospital extractions are just to remove the main causes of pain and infection. Nothing was mentioned about replacing any extracted teeth, and I don't want to register now with the NHS because this might remove any slim chance of free student dental care after the extractions...but if all/the front teeth are removed I could be left looking like even more of a meth addict than I do now! I suppose I'll have to wait for the consultation to find out.

Anyway, I have next week off work...so one whole week to research and worry! Although I might make an effort to confine my research to Dental Fear Central success stories and cat cuddling. This should help me to feel more positive.

Thank you again for your words of support and the time and mental gymnastics required to make it through my post

 

[zabka]

Hello hello all! I know people aren't exactly waiting on tenterhooks for some resolution, as this thread hasn't been updated in forever, but I've had a better experience than expected so far and wanted to share this in case it could help someone else out. I will try to be brief.

The X-ray showed that my four buggered teeth were buggered, and not much else. The other teeth were not good but didn't need to be immediately extracted, yay!...with the exception of the lower left wisdom tooth, the first to rear its ugly head and the most painful, shitty one. It was growing partly where it should, partly under the preceding molar, and partly into my cheek. Unfortunately, the X-ray showed that its roots were really close to the nerve responsible for sensation in the lower left of my face, including lips and tongue. The student examining me said it would need to be extracted.

When the trained dentist came to assess her work, she disagreed upon seeing the X-ray, saying that crowding was impossible (ha! Mind you, there is a lot of room now those four stumps have been removed ) and that proximity to the root made the procedure too much of a risk. But when she looked in my mouth, she changed her mind immediately! Must have been really bad, I guess. I was terrified throughout, but more so with the trained dentist, who was very abrupt at first but then softened up remarkably when she saw how scared I was.

So, they scheduled a cone beam scan (fancy localised 3D X-ray thingy) of the area in question to see exactly where the nerve lay and if they could remove the tooth without damaging it. They intended to remove all 5 teeth under sedation at the same time. I later went to see the surgeon who would be doing the extractions, who said that the scan showed that they could extract the tooth, but it might be necessary to leave a little of the root behind to avoid damaging the nerve; that nerve damage was possible in any case, and may result in loss of sensation or tingling which could last indefinitely; and that the only other option would be to leave it in, which would likely result in further complications and a more difficult extraction later on.

Extraction it was, then! The scan also showed that the roots of the wisdom tooth were wrapped around the roots of the tooth in front of it. Aren't I the lucky one! Again, I was incredibly nervous, but the surgeon was nice. He said that he thought it would be better if I had the teeth out under general anaesthetic rather than sedation due to the wisdom tooth requiring a surgical extraction, so I would need a pre-op. I signed the disclaimer and he managed to get me seen by the pre-op nurse straight away, which was fortunate. She took all my details (AGAIN!) and measured me, took my blood pressure etc. Everything was normal, but she noted that my BMI was a few points too low, so I couldn't get an date there and then; my details must be looked at by the anaesthetist before they could agree. Since the dental hospital didn't have the facilities for administering GA, it would be performed at the eye hospital day case unit.

That was in March or April. Late July, the dreaded letter arrived - I was to arrive at 12.30pm on September 4th. The broken canines had sheared off even more, and I'd had to return to the dental hospital again for some antibiotics to treat pericoronitis on the wisdom tooth marked for death. I booked holiday from the 4th to the 8th and got more and more anxious as the date approached. That week in work I was really preoccupied and stressed, and the morning of the operation I couldn't control myself. It made it much worse that I'd reread my little Oral Surgery leaflet (tucked away in a pile of not-quite-junk-but-still-shit mail - out of sight, out of mind) at 2am before going to bed to remind myself when I could last drink water, and spotted the instruction:

DO NOT smoke for at least 24 hours prior to surgery.

Now, in a way it's fortunate that I didn't see that beforehand, because I would DEFINITELY have murdered someone in work if I hadn't been able to smoke that day - it had been a shit day in any case, but I was being made to feel guilty for not committing to covering someone else's Sunday, in the middle of my medical leave, which I was actually using my personal holiday allowance to cover! I was treated to such gems as 'My sister had five teeth out when she was six, and she was fine!'.

Well shucks, so did I, and so was I! But what six year old has a wisdom tooth requiring a surgical extraction about a millimeter away from a major nerve? Fools! I was seething with rage, and am seething now simply remembering it. Those bastards. I didn't crumble, which turned out to be fortunate. Damn. This was meant to be short...

In any case, when I read this leaflet I was having a little smoke, intending to calm my nerves. I essentially shat myself, but then thought, in for a penny, in for a pound; a few tokes more won't make a difference if I'll die or they refuse the surgery anyway. So I finished the smoke, and calmed myself by reading that the shorter the surgery, the less likely the complications, and stopping 12h before can be beneficial. So I resolved not to smoke again until after the procedure, and to be honest if I was asked (in the end, I don't believe I was!).

When we finally got to the ward, the leaflet was well and truly f*cked, having been scrunched up and straightened out a thousand times over. I was unable to give my name at the reception and my girlfriend had to rescue me. Previously, it's been the other way round. She was amazing through this day and every day after. I love her

Everyone I encountered that day was lovely, which is unfortunate as I acted like a complete fool due to nerves, speaking far. Too. Much. Every one could be described as truly caring and compassionate, with the exception of the surgeon and anaesthetist, who were slightly more distant but still professional and friendly. The nurse asked me a load of questions - I must have been asked at least ten times if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. Every time, my girlfriend and I shared a look before saying 'no', very definitively; guess they have to check, though, who knows what some folks get up to! She put the numbing cream plasters on my hands and gave me the gown to change into and everything. The surgeon came to see me and checked that I knew what was going to happen and asked if I had any questions; all I could think of was 'How long will it take (derp)?', to which the answer was about 90 minutes, 10 of which would be spent on the four crappers, and the remainder on the big bastard. He didn't put it that way, of course...

By the time I was sitting in the gown, and had laughed with the nurse about my boniness and lack of tits (no, seriously, she was really nice!), it was past one o'clock and I figured we must be ready soon, right? Apparently not. There was only one other dental case in at the time - a girl with her mother as escort, who had been kind of over friendly for that kind of stressful situation - trying to chat whilst the nurse dealt with us, which made me feel like there was no way not to be rude and offend one of the two.

When the curtains were drawn to get changed, my girlfriend left them mainly closed when opening them afterwards to deter the woman from speaking to us again, hahaha. But this made me paranoid that they weren't open enough, and the nurse couldn't see, and that's why I hadn't been called yet. She eventually scolded me into submission (I deserved it - I was playing with the plaster things on my hands like a little kid, pushing the goo about inside) and asked if I wanted to read my book. I agreed, and was just getting settled when they called me. Panic! I walked to the pre-theatre room thing with legs of jelly, after the girl who I assume was the anaesthetist's assistant. She was very nice, but I was more anxious than ever before and was just jabbering crap and wouldn't keep still. The anaesthetist himself was small, bearded and had glasses. He looked friendly and smiled but didn't speak much. I don't blame him.

I remember having to lie down on a padded, wheeled bed. They allowed me to peel the plasters off my own hands and I was practically hyperventilating and messing up the monitor thing on my finger by whacking it on the bed repeatedly. I told them I hate needles a hundred times, maybe more. They didn't let me see it before or while they put it in, and it was painful, but only a bit and only for a second. Better having it done than thinking about having it done, if you catch my drift. I immediately started trying to look at it, and was prevented from doing so. I don't know when they actually gave me the drug (the needle was one of those canula things that sits in your hand and you can plug tubes into) but he said he would sedate me first and then put me under...and I remember nothing more.

Probably they just put me straight under! My next memory is waking up feeling like a baseball bat had been smashed into my mouth. Where it wasn't sore, it was totally numb (mainly my left lower lip, tongue and cheek). My lips were dry, I couldn't breathe properly because my mouth was full of crap, and my throat hurt like hell. I was really confused and started crying. The lovely, lovely recovery nurse took the gauze from my mouth and stroked my head and hand and calmed me in a really gentle voice. She was so awesome. She asked me to rate my pain and brought me codeine and a bit of water. My mouth had blood and spit in it and she kept telling me not to spit, but I couldn't bring myself to swallow it and just pathetically dribbled instead. This continued for the next few hours, although the main nurse said 'It's not blood, it's just pink discharge!' when I first arrived back on the ward and apologised for getting blood on my blankets (she brought me a warm blanket to put over the cold one, and it was so so good).

Apparently, when I first woke up I was calling my girlfriend's name, so they rang her - she was getting coffee and having a wee, as I'd only been under for an hour in all. They told her about the name calling and this earned me major brownie points, because I didn't see her until around fifteen minutes later and I was still evidently in cloud cuckoo land. I drank some water and came around. It felt like forever but I was actually feeling not normal, but awake enough to walk and have a supervised piss, within about half an hour. I must be stronger physically than I thought!

I was told to eat yoghurt, which was insanely hard - I've had LA before, but never to the extent of not feeling a quarter of my mouth, lips and tongue, and my jaw wouldn't open very far. The surgeon later confirmed that he'd used a really strong local anaesthetic on the wisdom site, which should wear off in about eight hours, but the nerve seemed to be unaffected. When I'd finished my yoghurt and looked suitably perky, I was allowed to take my leave, provided we took a taxi home. I was emotionally crazy and got really pissed when we had to call a taxi firm from the other side of Manchester. Girlfriend was remarkably understanding and so, so kind in the next few days, but I fear that my prior won brownie points may be lost forever.

We got home, I waited until I could take my first round of tablets - 600mg Ibuprofen, 500/30mg Co-Codamol and 200mg Metriondazole, every four, six and eight hours. This schedule was hard as hell because I was knocked out by the Co-Codamol, which I took most frequently. I would often wake up around the Ibuprofen time as this is an anti-inflammatory and as it wore off my jaw felt really uncomfortable, but I often missed the antibiotic for a few hours. I kept up as best as I could. The tablets managed the pain well, but as the anaesthetic wore off (after about 24 hours, not eight!) my lips and tongue started to tingle, and I could feel a dull ache at the wisdom site.

I had a crazy experience that day with some strawberry yoghurt. On the right side of my tongue it felt normal - cold and strawberry flavoured and smooth. But on the left, it felt like boiling water. Tasteless and burning. It was a crazy sensation. Luckily, this only lasted for a day or so, and then these areas returned to normal. But the pain remained, and I'd discovered three stitches, from the back of my gums to my foremost molar. Two of the stitches appeared to join my gum and cheek, which was weird.

I made sure to open my jaw a little more every day, even though it hurt like hell. Getting a spoon in hurt at first, even using tiny plastic teaspoons, but I persevered. I've had next to no trouble with the two upper right sockets, and very little with the left upper. Minor pain and a couple of instances of food getting caught inside, easily treated with salt water rinses (which I began a couple of days after surgery).

I tried to follow the post-op care as best as I could, but I failed in one area: smoking. I really kind of cheated on this one. I knew that the suction created by dragging on a cigarette or similar could dislodge the clots. So I asked my girlfriend, who also smokes, to feed me smoke by blowing me mouthfuls she had not previously inhaled. She tried to blow in a stream down my throat to avoid getting smoke on the wounds. This really hurt my throat, which was still sore after (I assume) some kind of breathing tube during the surgery. But I figured I would take that over dry socket any day. And not smoking is very, very hard, and I am weak. I did manage to stay off cigarettes for over a week (and didn't have a shit for five days, which sucked...probably the Co-Codamol as well), but I had alternative smoke, which contained tobacco.

Unfortunately, I hadn't read that some chemicals in tobacco smoke can prevent blood flow in the mouth, and thus impede clotting. Obviously this was better than smoking myself, but didn't eradicate the risk of dry socket as I had hoped. By the sixth day, I was due to return to work but still too dosed up on painkillers to be of any use to anyone. On the fourth day, I insisted on going to Maccy's with the girl because I would scream if faced with another pudding, previously one of my favourite things, and didn't want to send her out for it alone like an arsehole. She regretted allowing it instantly; I was floating about and could hardly order the food. We walked home with it; I collapsed and proceeded to spend an hour cutting a regular, tiny cheeseburger and four nuggets into tiny pieces and slotting them between my 6 opposing teeth at the back right before gently chewing. It was an ordeal but damn well worth it.

As my diet grew to incorporate slightly more solid foods (I still ate on one side but was limited by my jaw; food still found its way over to the left somehow) the wisdom and lower left sockets became more painful. I resumed brushing my remaining teeth, avoiding the surfaces closest to the empty sockets, and using alcohol-free mouthwash, but this seemed to get stuck in the back socket and tasted truly foul, as well as getting all in the stitches. So I just used salt water for rinsing. After about five days, I started to rinse more vigorously, as I felt there was food in the sockets. Sometimes, something would come out, not always recognisable as food; sometimes it would hurt less after this, and sometimes it would burn.

Work day rolled around and I was still in pain. The pain seemed to be lessening each day, but I could feel it more through the painkillers. It was just going away very slowly. One of the stitches came out of its own accord - there was still a loop in it, so I think my mouth broke, not the stitch! This exposed a big gap between my cheek and gum, where the tooth had been. It looked like they'd kind of stitched my cheek to my gum, which is really weird. Over the next few days, the remaining stitches felt more and more uncomfortable - just very tight.

To cut an incredibly long story slightly shorter, I returned to the dental hospital today and they cut the remaining stitches out, so my cheek and gum feel much more comfortable. This hurt a little while they did it, but only because the tissue was so sore, and it was over soon. Then they irrigated my lower sockets (ooh matron!) with antiseptic mouthwash and then packed them with this black gauze stuff which stinks and tastes rank and burns a bit if it goes on your lips or tongue...but the relief in the sockets is INCREDIBLE.

I must have been in more pain than I previously thought, because it's still twingeing but I feel at peace...no constant pain. And I did this alone, and without anaesthetic, so I feel likeI've really got somewhere - it's been 10 years since anyone did more than look while I've been awake. It was painful while they did it, when the cold liquid hit the bottom of the socket, and the woman offered local anaesthetic, but I shied away in terror and said I would rather take the pain than the needle Again, both women who treated me today were lovely and understanding and said I was very brave (I almost asked for a sticker). They gave me more Co-Codamol too. I felt exhausted when I got home and sat there feeling next to no pain, without taking the tablets yet - as if I'd been tensed up for weeks.

I know, this was meant to be a positive post and it's all about pain, right? But even though this pain has been more prolonged than any abscess I've ever had, it's been nowhere near as intense. I might be lucky there, because dry socket's generally meant to be shit. But the overall pain's been nowhere near as bad as all five teeth, even individually. And the best thing is that this is my choice. This is not me crumbling away and decaying and rotting and poisoning myself. This is me taking a positive step towards a better, pain-free future. And I can honestly say that today is the first time I've sat in a dentist's chair and gone home in less pain than when I arrived.

I guess I'll leave it there - probably already exceeded the maximum. Congratulations for slogging through that nightmare, if you read this. If you didn't:

• If you're experiencing pain but are scared of going to the dentist, GO! You will eventually feel much better. I've been about 6 times now, but not had anything done on 4 occasions and been asleep on one occasion. So I can't comment on the anxiety reducing or not, because mine hasn't. But your pain will reduce for sure!
• If you smoke, and you have extractions, don't. Smoke, that is. Really.
• I'm a bit of a tit who can't write anything short and to the point.

Thanks for reading, all (either the full or abridged version ) and thanks again to the mods/creators/whoever of this awesome website! I hope to apply to the dental hospital to be a student case study in an attempt to save my remaining teeth, if this heals well, and will update again if I get anywhere...eventually! Now I think it's time for food, tablets and real sleep.

Cheers,

Zabka