Sunday, February 02, 2014

the tooth -- the whole tooth -- and nothing but the tooth

The saga of the infected molar has come to an end.

At least, the molar is at an end.  Whether the infection has come to an end is a question to be answered on another day.

I have been rather busy this past week with functions.  Up early and to bed late.  On Friday night, I sighed in relief that I could sleep in on Saturday.

Something -- I still do not know what it was -- woke me up around 5:30 AM.  I rolled over with every intention of starting my first installment of sleep-in time.  But not before I got up to check my calendar on my telephone.  Is it really possible that I have a free Saturday?

Nope.  I didn't.  Saturday was the day my molar was coming out.  So, off to Manzanillo I went.

Three dentists in Manzanillo have looked at my molar.  A general practitioner, a specialist (her son), and the woman who worked valiantly on my root canal to save the tooth.  The son had the duty of being my oral surgeon.

We all knew there would be problems.  This would not be one of those grip and tug extractions.  Two of the roots were cracked.  That meant it would come out in pieces.

So, in the surgeon went with his little saw to break the tooth into manageable shards.  The first root shattered.  And the other two were equally reluctant to leave the only home they had known for 65 years.  No dwarf had dug deeper into the earth than my dentist during the hour and half surgery. 

When he finished, I gave him my tooth and $1,700 (Mx) -- about $127 (US).  In return, he gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and some antibiotics.

Flush with a small bag of drugs, off I drove with a frozen water balloon pressed to my left cheek.

I return for a followup next Saturday.  And in six months when the bone heals, we should know if the infection has retreated.  At least, my dental crew should have some idea what my replacement alternatives are at that point.

There were plenty of opportunities for photographs to accompany this news.  But even I have some sense of propriety.  And there was that small logistical problem. 

Shooting myself from the chair would have been going beyond the blogger's duty.  Shooting myself out of a cannon?  Sure.  But just for you folks.

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