Implants: Something to Chew On

The story goes back nearly two decades.

In a fluke football accident, I had my tooth karate-chopped off. No jagged edges. It was simply sheared off by the likes of Kevin Little (who, funny as Fated deemed, is with a very nice lady who works in dentistry, but I digress...). I was promptly taken to the dentist that day and eventually had a crown installed.

I never truly appreciated the costs and simple benefits by having this tooth fixed. Being a prominent tooth, it's easily a big deal, more so as I make my living speaking and interacting i front of hundreds of kids everyday.

Fast forward to this summer, and my brother had a beautiful wedding. The morning after, whilst eating pancakes with the fam, I open my mouth to insert a forkful of syrup-dripping IHOP goodness when I hear a plunk upon my plate. My oldest son is immediately grossed out, followed ever so quickly by my wife. My dad felt a sense of deja vu as basically the same thing happened to him when I was a wee lad. I remember it quite vividly as we were eating fried chicken that day. Oh, sorry...

A dentist's visit was promptly scheduled and the short of the conversation can be boiled down to this:

"David, I can fix this. Now, it's not a matter of if it breaks, because it will. It's a matter of when it breaks, because it will. It may be two months, or two years; it will fail again. When it does, I won't have many options, and you will eventually be faced with an expensive fix either way."

I don't know about you, but money's tight. Period. As such, I was able to arrange finances and go with the implant. As flippant as this reads, it wasn't an easy decision. After consulting with the wife, we agreed with Doc and this would be the best long-term solution (and also the most satisfactory in regards to look/comfort/performance).

In all honesty, the extraction was a cinch. Anesthesia is a wonderful thing, and I needed only a local. The shot on the roof of the mouth was a tight pinch, but nothing I couldn't handle. The old tooth's root was pulled out.

Drill time.

Imagine if you will, someone taking a steel pencil-thick drill, and drilling into your skull. That's pretty much what the did. With the tooth out, it was simply get in and get after it. With finesse, of course.

The funniest part? As they are literally screwing in the titanium screw, there is a miniature ratchet to firmly screw in the implant without over-torquing it. Doc was more than considerate in answering all my questions (and letting me hold the tools).

Three weeks later, I'm currently rocking a prosthesis, a denture if you will. It's simply a retainer like device with a chip of a tooth up front. Hard to tell, unless you know what you're looking for. It's not the most comfortable, but it will work. Doc is more than sympathetic, but I told him, "I'd rather put up with three months of this, and have thirty years of a fine lookin' tooth, instead of [other stuff that really doesn't work well]".

What's bad? My son reminds me in the morning to put my tooth in, as any public appearance without it is "embarrassing, Dad!"

I get it...

I'll follow up when another follow-up is done late January.

Shazam!