A Poor Impression
Yesterday my orthodontist told me that my hand was on the plug. He is ready to sever the nearly two year relationship I have had with my braces. There is only one thing that still needs to be done. Many years ago I broke a tooth on the bottom and had it pulled. I never did anything about it, but when I got my braces I decided that I would get an implant when all of this was over. Before the braces come off, the orthodontist wants to know if my dentist feels that there is enough space in the gap for an implant.
This morning I went to visit my dentist for a regular cleaning and asked about the spacing. He told me that he thinks there is enough space there, but he would feel better if he took some impressions, made a mold, and tested it out. The hygienist told me that she would use a special mold that is just for people who have braces. Because they don’t use it often, she had to step into the other room to mix it up.
After a brief time she rushed into the room with a tray full of purple goop. She jammed it into my lower jaw and started poking around to make sure she got all the air bubbles. Now I don’t know why, but for some reason she had a hard time getting the tray back out. I didn’t think it was a big deal until she stopped making jokes about it and got serious. She then left the room and reappeared with the dentist in tow. Then it was serious.
The dentist leaned his hip into my shoulder so he could get better leverage, and after a while he was sweating. He wasn’t the only one. As he tugged and pried at the tray I started to have visions of hearing about myself on some strange news story.
I tried to tough it out, but it was hard. The hygienist’s assistant kept dabbing the sweat from my forehead and massaging my jaw. She even dabbed the tears from my eyes when the pain was the worst. She was probably afraid to hold my hand because she saw the death grip I had on the chair. At first I was afraid that they were going to pull off some of my brace brackets. Then I was afraid that I was going to lose some teeth.
After I sat in the chair for an hour with my jaw pried open the mold was removed, but not before it was twisted so badly that it was of no use to anyone. In the process of tearing the plastic out of my mouth the dentist also ripped the wire out of my back bracket, and had to clip it and a spring out. So I get the pleasure of visiting the orthodontist twice this week, so I can get a new lower wire. The orthodontist’s office agreed that when I go in tomorrow that they will take some molds and send them over to my dentist. Something tells me that the orthodontist has done that before. I can’t say as much about the dentist…
Yesterday my orthodontist told me that my hand was on the plug. He is ready to sever the nearly two year relationship I have had with my braces. There is only one thing that still needs to be done. Many years ago I broke a tooth on the bottom and had it pulled. I never did anything about it, but when I got my braces I decided that I would get an implant when all of this was over. Before the braces come off, the orthodontist wants to know if my dentist feels that there is enough space in the gap for an implant.
This morning I went to visit my dentist for a regular cleaning and asked about the spacing. He told me that he thinks there is enough space there, but he would feel better if he took some impressions, made a mold, and tested it out. The hygienist told me that she would use a special mold that is just for people who have braces. Because they don’t use it often, she had to step into the other room to mix it up.
After a brief time she rushed into the room with a tray full of purple goop. She jammed it into my lower jaw and started poking around to make sure she got all the air bubbles. Now I don’t know why, but for some reason she had a hard time getting the tray back out. I didn’t think it was a big deal until she stopped making jokes about it and got serious. She then left the room and reappeared with the dentist in tow. Then it was serious.
The dentist leaned his hip into my shoulder so he could get better leverage, and after a while he was sweating. He wasn’t the only one. As he tugged and pried at the tray I started to have visions of hearing about myself on some strange news story.
I tried to tough it out, but it was hard. The hygienist’s assistant kept dabbing the sweat from my forehead and massaging my jaw. She even dabbed the tears from my eyes when the pain was the worst. She was probably afraid to hold my hand because she saw the death grip I had on the chair. At first I was afraid that they were going to pull off some of my brace brackets. Then I was afraid that I was going to lose some teeth.
After I sat in the chair for an hour with my jaw pried open the mold was removed, but not before it was twisted so badly that it was of no use to anyone. In the process of tearing the plastic out of my mouth the dentist also ripped the wire out of my back bracket, and had to clip it and a spring out. So I get the pleasure of visiting the orthodontist twice this week, so I can get a new lower wire. The orthodontist’s office agreed that when I go in tomorrow that they will take some molds and send them over to my dentist. Something tells me that the orthodontist has done that before. I can’t say as much about the dentist…
2 comments:
I feel you pain. How horrible.
Wow, that sounds awful
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