A Broken Tooth on Christmas Eve
Because that's how chronic illness life works.
Parma ham is delicious, wouldn’t you agree? The oily, salty tendrils wrapped around my teeth as I chewed, and chewed. Then, one sneaky tendril lodged itself in a hidden crevice. The tip of my tongue plays hide-and-seek with it, but fails to untangle it.
That’s when I realise that something feels too crunchy for parma ham. Could it be my molar tooth? Not again?! (Yes, I’ve cracked one before, no thanks to my horrible bruxism and TMD.)
My tongue explores the recess of my mouth further; cavities only it can access. Dark, angled corners that cannot be illuminated for visual examination. With a few more gentle nudges, it snapped. I pop the fragment out of my mouth in dismay, before all panic breaks loose. Nights are not the best hour for getting medical help, much less dental aid.
I laid the chipped tooth on a coffin constructed from kitchen towel; a physical souvenir from my body; a little something to remember Christmas 2024 by. My tongue begins a new probe to assess the damage, and finds a deep, gaping hole with jagged edges. My heart races, as the thoughts in my head clash and collide.
As I took a couple deep breaths, I was grateful that there wasn’t any pain (yet) and most importantly, that there was no bleeding. As a person with Antiphospholipid Syndrome who is on warfarin (blood thinning medication), that would have been a much worse nightmare on Christmas Eve.
I suddenly remember that one of my clients is an orofacial pain specialist/dentist, so I hurry to inform him about what had happened. He arranges an appointment to see me on Boxing Day, and reassures me that everything will be okay. I say, “thank you so much”, and went back to eating slowly, carefully, dismally. This was not how I wanted to practise mindful eating.
Over the next few days, I could only chew and process food using one side of my mouth. What did that feel like? Strange and unnatural. I had never realised before this incident just how much the different parts of the oral cavity come together to make eating an efficient and pleasant task. The tongue needs to dance in order to chew in a satisfactory motion, but I had to ensure that it was disciplined, and used it to constantly shovel food back to my left cheek. Awkwardness aside, flavours seemed to be less intense with only half the taste buds put to work.
The temporary filling my orofacial pain client/friend did is supposed to be able to last for 6 months, and is even used in the army. However, I had to pay him another meek visit 2 days later, as my uncontrolled bruxism whilst asleep had cracked it open again.
I am so relieved to have finally seen my regular dentist today. Perhaps a crown will be needed in future, but for now we’re just sticking to another filling to see if it…sticks around. She had to use a block to hold my mouth open, but no thanks to my small mouth and TMJ issues, we had to use the size meant for babies. That also means that root canals are not an option for future reparations.
For now, the numbness from the local anaesthesia is slowly dissipating from my gums, throat, tongue and lips. I am trading strange, tingly sensations for ‘no sensations’. By ‘no sensations’ I mean regular sensations - which I now know is ‘regular’ simply because that’s all I’ve ever known.
*End Note: So I figured this would be the best way to kickstart my SubStack posts, which will take on the form of more personal stories and light insights. Main resources and in-depth articles will remain over on the blog, achronicvoice.com. I will also take the opportunity to publish a daily series called ‘Mindful Poetry’ (I’ll think up an actual name later, maybe). It will be my attempt at trying to be more intentional in my everyday life, by focusing on and writing a poem about one thing - anything - a day. I hope you stick around!
My Favourite Reads This Week
Animals self-medicate with plants − behavior people have observed and emulated for millennia (theconversation.com)
“The term zoopharmacognosy – “animal medicine knowledge” – was invented in 1987. But as the Roman natural historian Pliny pointed out 2,000 years ago, many animals have made medical discoveries useful for humans.”Are We Hardwired for Poetry? (psychologytoday.com)
“Poetry doesn’t aim to be therapy; it doesn’t try to cajole or convince. It isn’t trying to sell you anything; it’s not a scam. David Whyte, again: “Poetry is language against which you have no defense.” It reveals us to ourselves and reveals the world to us. It is the language of the heart’s unspoken truths.”