The Oral Dude

We, and when I say we I mean Marty, started the process of implants a couple of weeks ago.  And, when I say implants I don’t mean the soft squishy silicon kind, I mean the dental kind.

We have had a good run of health lately and it is past time to revisit the dental issue Marty has experienced most of her life.  I don’t like dental stuff, the very thought of it gives me the heebie jeebies, and when I say heeby jeeby I mean massive, light headed, creeps.

I’m not sure why I have such an aversion to the tooth and gum, but I do.  I have sat beside Marty and held her hand in a lot of medical situations in the past years but when it comes to removing teeth, I have to excuse myself lest the dental hygienist has to break out the smelling salts and that looks bad for an old man.

We have been mulling this whole ordeal for about two years.  We first visited the implant guy some many months ago and Marty said nope, nada and I just didn’t have the conviction to put her and our bank account through that assault on her mouth.  

Over the ensuing months Marty lost more teeth and more were becoming less viable.  Even Marty agreed it was time to do something and implants seemed the best option for my bride.  Marty is a fidgeter with everything and I can’t imagine dentures would ever stay in her mouth….so implants were the best solution.

The implant thing is a multi-stage process.   You have to get molded for a temporary prosthesis you will wear for months, you get teeth extracted, titanium posts inserted into the bones in your mouth and then the temporary set of teeth fitted and screwed into your mouth.  Exciting huh?  

Getting the mold done was a big nothing.  The big stage, removing teeth and screwing metal into her gums took about five hour.  Marty was not sedated except the Xanax I gave her a couple of hours before she hit the chair.  

I moved Marty into the chair and stayed until they brought the 21^st century torture devices and left poor Marty to the good graces of the nurses and the oral dude.  I’m told they numbed her mouth really well and she sat there with people pulling teeth, cutting her gums, hammering and screwing posts in her for five hours.  In case it’s not clear, my wife is one tough chick.

All went as planned and we got Marty home about 4:30 and of course took her to bed, got her some ice packs, some pain meds and soup.  I’m a firm believer in pain meds, reasonably used, and they make Marty real sleepy which is clearly the way to do oral surgery.  Sleep through the recovery to the extent that you can.

The next day my bride was bruised and swollen, she looked like she had been through a street fight and lost.  We went to the dentist for them to check the temporary teeth they had screwed into her upper gums and all was good.  Marty, for her part, due to the pain meds was way high by this time.  

All was fine.  Marty’s pain was manageable, she was more than a little high from the meds (she’s a cheap drunk anymore), and the temporary teeth were doing fine.  Marty was bruised, battered and drugged, other than that, peachy keen.

The bruising got worse, the pain got better, and slowly, as the bruising turned from purple to yellow and moved around her mouth and to her left eye, the eating got better and she could have something besides soup.

Today, the yellow marks on her face are gone, the teeth look dandy and eating is just fine as long as we stay away from really chewy hard foods which we would do anyway.  We went back to the oral surgeon, he checked and she is doing well.  The oral dude recommended we start using a water pick, which should be a huge mess every time we use it, but okay, we shall do that too.

Every time we go through one of these “procedures” I am reminded of how far we have come in Marty’s recovery and what a tough, resilient person my bride is.  Do what she had done to me and I’m out for a month.  

Not Marty, she just deals with each and every new assault to her body and she quietly and simply does the next thing.  She doesn’t complain, she doesn’t moan, she doesn’t pitch or make life hard for those who care for her the most and want to help her.  

She is one tough mama and now she has a really cool set of temporary teeth just waiting for the new ones like an impending Christmas present. 

 

God gave me the right woman.

Negotiating Implants

Marty and I are in daily negotiations about getting her implants.  I tend to think she should get them, she says no way no how.  We are talking dental implants not the other kind…I personally like the natural stuff.

Marty has several upper teeth that are just not doing well.  They are loose and getting looser as a consequence of medicine and genetics.  As a disclaimer and clarification I have to say Marty was a fanatic about dental hygiene but it never mattered, she had bad gums and bone loss.  Having a third party take care of your teeth just makes the whole situation more tenuous.

We have been to see the oral surgeon, a doctor we shall call “Dr. Oral Surgeon”, twice.  He’s clearly skilled, has impeccable credentials, a really cool office, talks to Marty, talks to me and makes a lot of sense.  He’s not doing a hard sale on the implants but he really believes we have to do something in the not too distant future.  Implants, to me, seem to be the best “bridge” to the future for Marty, dental wise.

Marty says she likes him and she listens intently to what he is saying and the questions I ask.  On our first visit I introduced Marty to the doctor and started my usual patter, trying to put a human face on her.  I explained her medical history to Dr. Oral Surgeon and I explained her life history, briefly.  I told him that Marty was an educational psychologist who at one time worked educating family practice doctors.

Marty listened to my stories about her, and I could see her perk up about the time I started laying out her previous career.  She took the opportunity and looked at Dr. Surgeon and just as dryly as she could muster she said with an air of mental health arrogance, “And how do you feel about that?”  The business liaison lady who was standing there taking all of this immediately fell in love with Marty. 

As part of this whole negotiation process I’m trying to convince not only Marty, but myself, that these implants are the best thing for her, long term.  That’s different for me; I’m looking at this long term.  I have moved past the short term view, I have moved past the idea that Marty won’t be here much longer so long term cures are something to consider.  It’s kind of an odd thing to consider, but this is a different world view for me and for Marty.

When someone is chronically ill like Marty, when someone has walked on the edge of death, like Marty, thinking in terms of the out years seems capricious and fate tempting.  You look at things differently, you actually think about whether short term pain and discomfort is worth any gain because you might not experience the gain for very long.  This change has required a change in our decision making process, it has added a new level of complexity to the whole deal.  It’s good; it’s just a different view.

I also want Marty to make this decision, a decision that creates some risk and pain to her life, of her own volition.  Sometimes in caring for her I have to make executive decisions about her care without consulting or listening to her objections.  For example, she never ever wants to be in the hospital or go to the doctor.  That doesn’t make sense so sometimes I have to overrule her; she’s not a child, she’s an adult, but she is compromised, thus the negotiation.

Marty has been pretty adamant she was not digging the whole implant process; she has not budged on her position.  I finally told her that’s fine, that we should just continue to talk about it.  I told her I would bring up the idea of implants every now and then and that maybe we could come to the conclusion that she needed to have the work done.  

“Does that sound like a successful plan?” I asked.  “Do you think that will get us there?”

She looked at me, straight into my eyes, without a flicker of a grin and said, “I don’t know, it’s sure not my plan.”

That’s where we are.  She doesn’t want to do it; it’s not in her plans at all.  She is worried about the pain; she can’t get past the fact that her teeth don’t currently bother her.  I understand her trepidation, the whole dental thing freaks me out, I really don’t like the dentist.  Sorry, I had bad experiences early.

The good news is that we have options, or at least we don’t have to do anything now.  I fear if we wait too long our options will be limited and we don’t want that.  The other good news is that Marty Jean is fully engaged in the process and in her own inimitable fashion she is having her say.  

I like that part of Marty, I always have, it takes patience, but I like that part.  Now I just have to find a plan where we have agreement.  Our negotiations continue and somehow I feel like I’m in familiar territory…..the short end of the negotiation.