Tuesday 16 August 2011

A Tooth for a Tooth


“He thought I was looking at his girlfriend the wrong way, so he headbutted me,” Alec said.

“Were you?” I asked.

“He was drunk,” Alec said.

“How is he now?” I asked.

“Sober,” Alec said, “And he’s agreed to pay for the damages.”

I took Alec through to the treatment room, and we examined the cracked tooth in the front of his upper jaw. The injury occurred a week ago on a night out at the pub. Now Alec’s central incisor did not respond to cold. It was tender when I tapped it. It had changed to a grey green colour. Over half the crown had disappeared, leaving a diagonal, jagged edge.

“The tooth has died, I’m afraid,” I said.

“I don’t want to lose it,” Alec said.

“If we try to save it, it will need a root filling, a post-core, and a crown,” I said.

Alec and I discussed all the alternatives, from doing nothing (free, but disfiguring, unhealthy and uncomfortable), to taking the tooth out and replacing it with an implant (expensive, intrusive and only as a last resort).

“This will be the most expensive pint of beer my mate ever drank,” Alec said as he scheduled his first appointment to begin restoring his tooth.

“Better than having you press charges for assault,” I commented.

“I think that’s why he’s so happy to pay for the work,” Alec said.

At his next appointment, Alec arrived with his friend.

“Joe’s come with me today to pay for my treatment,” he said.

Joe produced a credit card and settled the account. I sensed tension between Joe and Alec, a mountain of unexpressed feeling between them, perhaps?

“How are you feeling, Joe?” I asked.

“Pretty stupid and sorry,” Joe said.

“Promise me you won’t make a habit of this. It’s harmful, distressing, and costly,” I said.

“I know. I don’t normally,” Joe said. “I’d just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all. When I drink I’m not the same person.”

“He’s a great mate, really,” Alec said.

“Ah. Might be a good time to reconsider the value of a wild night out. But if you find you need help to drink less, there are plenty of lovely folk out there to help you. I’ll get you some numbers,” I said.

Alec looked approving. Joe looked contrite. I handed Joe the telephone numbers of agencies more experienced in these matters than myself.

After several visits, Alec’s tooth was beautifully restored. With the help of my dental laboratory, who examined Alec in person to confirm the shade selection and improve the detailing on his crown, Alec now had a tooth that matched the rest of his smile perfectly.

“Invisible mending,” he said, smiling at himself in the mirror for the first time since his injury had occurred.

I rang Alec some time later to see how he was getting on.

“I don’t see Joe that often these days, to tell the truth,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, “And what about you? How are you and your tooth doing?”

“My new tooth is about to become a celebrity. My band is headlining this summer at that music festival I told you about,” Alec said.

“Well done,” I said, laughing. “I shall look out for you and your tooth in the line-up.”