Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions of Suicidal Ideation
Today I met with the Prosthodontist I was referred to. I left feeling pretty deflated. My head felt like it was going to explode. So much for having a few days off work to recharge!
I genuinely appreciated his kindness and thoroughness, but I walked into his office hoping and praying this appointment would be different. Similar, that is, to every other appointment and specialist I’ve been referred to over the last, almost four months since my accident. I find myself hoping and praying that this will be the one where someone can finally give me a definitive plan, concrete solutions and some reassurance that this nightmare I’ve been living through was finally moving towards an end. Today, I left with more questions than answers and feeling anything but reassured. Although I am beyond grateful and appreciative for all the wonderful care I’ve had up until now, and I do understand how fragile and complex all this is and I also know they all just want what’s best for me.
Throughout my appointment today, I kept hearing the word “babysit” repeated over and over again.
Apparently, that’s where we are right now. “Babysitting” my teeth.
There are STILL so many unknowns and after the initial examination, he told me that my bite is quite problematic and could make future procedures difficult. The teeth that have already undergone treatment STILL may or may not survive, and as things continue to settle, there are also concerns about how my gums are healing. I honestly thought I was out of the woods with that after the fracture healed, but apparently not. Just one more thing to worry about.
For now, he’s applied some cement to the tooth I’d lost a piece of, hoping it will help with the pain and sensitivity I’ve been dealing with in that area until future assessment is done on it. I’ve also scheduled another appointment in a couple of weeks to see if he can realign my bite and even out my two front teeth by shaving them down, as they weren’t properly adjusted during the initial procedure on the day of my accident. Nobody is at fault for that. My mouth was a hot, bloody mess.
Before then, he advised me to make an appointment with my dentist to get a regular cleaning in order to prepare for those procedures.
And then there’s the ongoing conversation about what comes next for my still-missing tooth. When I heard the projected cost, the tears started flowing. I nearly fell out of the chair.
More appointments. More waiting. More uncertainty. And more money. LOTS of money.
I’m beginning to think I need a pencil and a really, really big eraser because if ever there were a chapter I’d like to erase and rewrite, it’s this one.
I’m trying to remind myself that “babysitting” simply means being cautious, allowing time for things to settle and not rushing decisions that could affect the outcome. I understand that. But in my head, it’s already been FOUR months. In the eyes of every single specialist, though, I’m reminded that it’s ONLY been four months. Knowing that doesn’t make the waiting and uncertainty any easier.
I’m feeling overwhelmed and pretty defeated today. I just want this nightmare behind me. I want to eat without thinking about every bite I take and smile without worrying about what I look like to the outside world.
And then there are the feelings that are much harder to put into words. Days like today bring back some of the darker thoughts I’ve been navigating through since my accident. There are moments when the emotional and physical toll becomes so overwhelming that a part of me wishes I had never woken up from my accident in the first place. It’s difficult to admit, let alone say out loud, but it’s an honest reflection of just how much this experience has taken out of me.
For now, I’m keeping that pencil and really, really big eraser handy and trying to remind myself that life is written in pencil, not permanent ink, for good reason.
#moreappointments #feelingdeflated #mentalhealth
