At the Battle of Bosworth Field, Richard met a sticky end - all possibly because he lost his helmet and his horse, thus becoming fatally vulnerable on the ground. And after all that struggle, he only lived until the age of thirty-two.
Richard's realisation that the loss of a four-legged utilitarian animal, his horse, could mean the difference between life and death was highlighted by William Shakespeare - in Act V, Scene IV of his play "Richard III" - those famous words "A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse".
Now I understand that the loss of his horse didn't actually cause Richard's death, but certainly played a factor in the plummeting of his self-esteem and personal self-worth (to say the least). Not that Shakespeare cared a jot. Will did not paint Richard favourably at all.
How we feel in the company of others can make a huge difference in how we present ourselves to the world. Richard III had the handicap of his disability, considered a murderer by some and was an unlikely and uneasy successor to his brother Edward IV. He really didn't have much of a hope of a long and happy life.
Fast forward about five hundred and fifty years and not much has changed. Relatively unimportant manifestations can have quite an impact on how we perceive others view us. Such as having a missing front tooth.
This is the story of Michael's tooth. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, Michael lost his front tooth in an act of complete idiocy. Holding a kite string is your mouth isn't the smartest idea. Which ended in predictable disaster. Breakage of that tooth. Michael was saved by a post and the remains, which was used as building blocks. The result was supposed to last about ten years. He was incredibly lucky that the tooth lasted about twenty-five years. And then the post broke.
We have spent the last two years waiting to complete another resurrection. More succinctly, an implant (which he required) does not come cheap.And the process takes more than a couple of visits to our friendly dentist. Back in 2015, we had the required cash but Michael had a prolonged chest infection. By the time he was better, we'd run out of money. So Michael was missing his front tooth with no timeframe to rectify this situation.
He has not been a happy camper. He has suffered from extreme embarrassment, in spite of the fact the lack of his tooth actually enhanced his persona as a Beverley Hillbilly. Every day was a reminder of the lack of his tooth for him. He truly did not feel whole.
Finally, at the beginning of this year, we began the process. First the titanium screw into his jaw. Then that had to heal and be absorbed by the surrounding jaw bone. Then a metal post. More recovery time. Then the awful conclusion that Michael needed a custom made post. Bollocks! Then the Rolls Royce post. More recovery time. At the beginning of July, he endured moulds the size of the Antarctic continent in his mouth to gauge the right size and shape of his custom made porcelain crown.
Monday was the nightmare of his up and down oscopy. Thursday was the launch of his New Front Tooth. If spite of overnight discomfort, Michael was as happy as a pig in mud. He had his tooth, his smile and his confidence restored.
All is well in Michael's world. And as a result, all in well in my world. And I think I have treated Michael's plight with a bit more empathy than Shakespeare did of Richard III.
Richard III did not have a happy life...
This says it all!
The cause of all the fuss.
How Michael felt about his tooth.
How he thought he looked.
The implant process.
Hiding his smile.
At last! His tooth.
One very happy bloke.
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