
My god this tooth! Just before lockdown I’d had a filling replaced in a back lower molar and then two years later it fell out again. That last visit my (fabulous) dentist told me that if I lost the filling again I would either need to get a crown or an implant. Well, or get it pulled. So when it DID end up falling out again, I think that was maybe two years ago, I decided that as long as it wasn’t painful I would just live with half a molar. And for all that time it was mostly just a bit uncomfortable when food would get trapped in the larger space. Then a few days before I was about to leave for Aracena the tooth, and pretty much that whole side of my jaw, started hurting like a mofo. It was too late to book an appointment with my dentist so I left for my trip hoping for the best. When I got back I was still in pain so on Friday I found myself back in the chair. And somehow my guy managed to reconstruct the tooth yet again, so I just paid the price of a normal filling.
He also put on a mask when he saw me wearing mine, which I appreciated. I’ve been going to this guy for years. Now his son and daughter have joined the practice and I guess it won’t be long before he retires. But I really like and trust him and he is just a short walk from my house. Anyhow, I also made an appointment for a cleaning and a proper check up next month (long overdue) as this had been a last minute “emergency” appointment. Nice to feel taken care of.



You know that crumbling teeth anxiety dream? Well, it happened again – except I wasn’t asleep. There I was eating something totally innocuous (greek yoghurt) and suddenly half a molar fell out. Well, a filling that had previously been filling half a molar fell out. This makes the fourth one in the past 2-3 years, which is kind of getting ridiculous, as well as harder to ignore. Why ignore them you ask? Well, at the risk of sounding morbid, I just didn’t think that repairing teeth at great expense was a priority if I was going to end up back on chemo and/or dead in the next year or so. But with my (hopefully) final “six-month” PET scan coming up in September/October, I may have to start taking action. The deal is, if I get the all-clear next scan and they move me to annual PET scans – and remove that pesky chemo port – then I will finally feel less like I’m on death row and living between six-month reprieves, and more like, well, I don’t know anymore. But I will definitely get my teeth fixed! Or pulled. Whatever.