The Saga of the Dentist

Perhaps this should be the Tale of the recalcitrant molar. Around 7 years ago, whilst on holiday in Ireland one of my large molars cracked ominously and started to throb. It meant a quick search for an emergency dentist, and navigating the back streets of whatever town it was – trying to find the dentist’s surgery. It seems to be an unwritten law that the dentist works out of an office or surgery in as inaccessible a place as possible.

OF course it is never easy to organise all of this a) in a separate country, (though thankfully we speak more or less the same language,) and b) whilst caravanning in the hinterland of an unknown place.  In the event, the said tooth was expertly repaired with a temporary filling, which lasted for 5 years. My own dentist back home in Scotland took the view that it was best to leave well alone. Since then, the filling has broken on 3 separate occasions; and now, the remaining quarter of the molar has disappeared down the plughole. (Don’t ask ….. it’s not worth it, though it did involve tweezers and swearing when I failed to catch it.)

Now – I discover that I can either phone for emergency appointments each day at half-past eight in the morning in the hope of a cancellation, or wait until the end of May. Herein lies the dilemma; although the tooth is all jagged and cannot be chewed on, it is not sore. So what constitutes an emergency? On top of all that is the fact that making a decision about an appointment early in the morning is problematic. Getting there is a trip of almost an hour, so mathematics comes into the equation. Grrrr……

Never mind the fact that I suspect this will involve decisions about crowns, root fillings, extraction and dentures.  I guess we all go through this as time goes by.